


Stoke the Fire (Consumed whole)

by Resilience



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Belly Kink, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fat Shaming, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Intrigue, M/M, Multi, Porn With Plot, Romance, Smut, Stilinski Family Feels, Threesome - M/M/M, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Weight Gain, chubby!Stiles, feeder!Scott, feeder!derek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-31
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2017-12-25 04:33:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/948670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resilience/pseuds/Resilience
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is caught in the throes of depression, almost reaching the point of careless self harm. He happens to find a temporary solace in food, and a permanent solace in Derek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Since when did things get so hard? Sure, Scott became a werewolf, and suddenly I was good enough to play on the field, and there was the whole almost dying thanks to Matt and the Kanima (Jackson of course), , the Alpha ordeal, saving the Guardian sacrifices, namely my father almost dying and then finding out the most terrible way ever about the supernatural world that exists, Derek leaving suddenly and coming back just as suddenly, and I guess everything that followed that was weird to deal with too. But I took it in stride, didn't I? Rolled with the punches?

Things just seem to be...falling apart. I feel like I'm losing my place. In everything... as Scott's best friend, as that guy who always has a sarcastic comment, as the guy who had a ten year plan for getting a girl, as the sidekick who is continually useful and helpful. Oh, you know, just in my own life...

Things are getting so difficult. I don't know where I stand anymore, if I'm a help or whether I just get in the way. Do they just tolerate me, and let me play pretend? Let me feel important, and feel good about myself because I can't do much more than shove my face in some books then proceed to get in the way? Should I step aside and just accept the inevitable, instead of needing someone to tell me when I’m no longer required?

"Stiles."

I can't really take much more of this. Putting on a happy face for my friends, acting like everything is okay and I'm okay and the world is okay. When it's not.

"Stiiiles..."

Do I really have to keep doing this? How much longer do I have to take this?

"STILES!"

"WHAT dude, Christ!" Stiles threw down the controller, making it bounce on the bed. 

Scott looked at him, head cocked and eyes worried. "I've been calling you for the past like 5 minutes. What's going on in the brain of yours?"

Stiles regained his composure and cockily shot back, "Thoughts are sacred. A man never reveals his secrets. And by that I mean you wouldn't comprehend."

"Whatever bro." Scott gave him a look, and turned back to his computer, too engrossed in whatever it was that he’d been doing for the last four hours to strike up better conversation. He and Stiles had literally been sitting there, Stiles playing video games, and he looking at his computer. For the past. Four. Hours. Stiles could certainly entertain himself for four hours with Mario Kart, but come on, he doesn’t live off of video games and silence.

A Stilinski is a creature of sound and energy.

Stiles looked back to his TV screen. Mario was putputting through a farm of cows, the race abandoned and finished without him.

He smirked disparagingly about the coincidental situation. ‘Mario, my friend, at least you are not alone.’

Stiles turned off the console and hopped off the bed to peer over Scott’s shoulder, grabbing a hoho on his way over.

Stiles peeled back the wrapper and bit into the sweet, chocolaty, creamy fake pastry. He closed his eyes and basked in the satisfaction that little treat brought him.

When he opened them again, his eyes were wandering over the sickly thin and long legs of models. Real or photoshopped, he couldn’t tell, and didn’t have the urge to find out. With a mouthful of criticizing hoho gaping open, “Dude, what are you doing?”

Scott glanced over his shoulder and looked quickly back at the screen, a blush gracing his strong cheekbones. “I’m…uhh…just looking up stuff for Allison’s birthday.” He stared at the screen filled with leggings, lingerie, and shoes intently, like it would defend him if Stiles got critical.

“Isn’t that like 5 months from now…”

“I just want to get an idea, so I don’t forget!” he replied huffily, blush firmly in place.

“Seems more like you just want to buy stuff that you’d enjoy more than she would,” Stiles laughed and walked back to the bed. 

“Shut up!” There was no humor in Scott’s voice, just annoyance.

Stiles’ smile faded slowly as he waited for Scott to say more. Which didn’t happen. “Ok well I’m gonna head out. You can continue ogling fake legs on the interwebs without me.”

“...Hey, Stiles, wait!”

But Stiles was already out the door. If Scott wanted him to stay then he would come get Stiles before Stiles made it out the door, he reasoned.

Scott did not come get him. Even when Stiles purposefully waited longer than necessary in the driveway, took longer backing up than necessary and pretending to take care of old ladies and their cats possibly crossing the street, and drove home slower than an iceberg over North America. Stiles was just giving Scott ample time to get home before he did, Stiles reasoned. 

But when Stiles pulled into the driveway, Scott wasn’t waiting patiently on his doorstep, or at the kitchen table. Stiles also noticed the Sheriff was nowhere to be found on the property. Stiles knew he should have expected it, but the drop of his stomach felt painfully worse than last time his dad wasn’t home, and the time before, and the time before, etc. etc so on and so forth. Of course, though, that’s how it always was. Stiles was always alone.

A hole was growing. And it was getting bigger, and bigger, with each passing day. And no one noticed.

The darkness was ever consuming.

With that particular line of thought, Stiles half-jokingly considered shaving one side of his head and dying it black, dressing in black, painting his nails black and getting a bunch of piercings. That’d make him equally emo on the outside as he was on the inside.

See, the deal with all this emptiness inside of Stiles, well it’s not just him. You all should know that. This is the darkness in his heart caused by the sacrifice he made for his dad. Scott and Allison have it too. Possibly Derek. But they have anchors…someone to bring them back into the world of unicorns pooping butterflies and pissing rainbows. Scott and Allison have each other. And Isaac, and Lydia. No one really came by Stiles’, to see how he was, to see if he still needed an anchor, because they were too busy with each other. He pretended he was happy enough anyway, like nothing was ever bothering him, so they probably thought he didn’t need an anchor as much as the rest of them.

Maybe it was his own fault people didn’t give two shits or less about him. He always put up a front, so what would make them think he’s unhappy and needed someone? Needed anyone, really, to wrap their arms around him and tell him that everything would be ok?

Stiles put his head between his knees, breathing deeply, forbidding his tears from falling. It was definitely his own fault no one cared. He was stupid to believe otherwise. He was alone because he made it that way, so that’s how it was supposed to be. Stiles was alone. A hollow carcass of pretend. The emptiness inside him reared its ugly head, curling around these thoughts. 

Stoked the fire. Burned the coals. The flames grew higher. Consumed him whole.

He sat on his bed like that for what felt like hours, door locked, room dark already swallowed in dark.

Sometimes, he liked it that way. Surrounded by nothing but Stiles, he used to think. At first it was comforting. He’d reminisce on all the good memories of his mom and him, Scott and Stiles’ sleepovers, his concoction of the ten year plan for getting Lydia Martin to marry him. They worked in the beginning. The idea of it wasn’t so comforting anymore. Now it was a bright and shiny reminder of the things he’s lost, and things he’ll never have. Covered in the dark, surrounded by his failures, it was his new home and he needed to accept that. 

Stiles huffed and pulled his head out of his lap, glossy eyes gazing into nothing for a few moments before he turned them on the end table next to his bed.

He reached into his end table, pulled out a paper bag of chocolate goodies and creamy treats. He stared at it, and slowly, a small smile spread on his face.

Food. Unhealthy, too-sweet, bad for you candies and treats. He found solace in the one thing he tried to avoid before, especially with his father. It made him feel things, even if they were purely physical. A sweet tooth ache, a fullness in his stomach that filled up the emptiness, a creamy texture over his tongue and fingertips. It was just a small thing that no one else was giving him: something to simply feel.

Stiles hadn’t felt the need to be taking his ADHD pills since the whole being dunked in ice for 16 hours deal. He was calmer, more subdued. Like before with Scott as an example, though, he makes his personality change back for his friends, to the happy ball of energy. Not the empty shell of a one Stiles Stilinski. The ADHD wasn’t kicking in as much, but he had heard it was a fake disease anyway….so maybe he was better off. The pills didn’t really make him feel good anyway. Falling off the bandwagon rather than easing himself off the pills had its problems, but he didn’t think they were affecting him much. The only side effects were weight gain, depression, and some other humble jumble.

So when Stiles had these thoughts about his inadequacy, lack of motivation, and void feelings, he figured they were just part of the darkness in his heart, not at all being honed by his lack of pillpopping. Definitely not, totally wasn’t affecting him. He also didn’t have second thoughts about what he ate, and how it might affect him. He was always running away from things anyway, whether it was a werewolf or lacrosse ball/hulking player, so he figured he’d still burn off whatever stuck to his body (if anything did at all). Stiles sighed, leaned back into his pillows and stared at the ceiling, occasionally popping some treats into his open and salivating mouth.

~~~~~~~

Stiles woke up in the middle of the night to a call from Scott. ‘What, did Allison break up with you or something…’ he thought sardonically…

“It’s 2:30 in the morning Scott, this better be worth it.”

“We have an Omega problem. Get over to Deaton’s and tell him we need mountain ash, right now.” And he hung up. Wonderful. Stiles laid in bed a moment, eyes closed.

“Dammit.”

He tossed the covers aside and threw on the clothes from the day before he had left lying on the ground. He left a note for his dad, just in case the Sheriff came home when Stiles wasn’t there, hopped into the Jeep and headed out into the night.

______

The omegas were dirty brown colors, one slightly speckled with white. One had a top canine missing, with yellow eyes, and the other had big white teeth, a brown snout, and blue eyes. Stiles made a note in his head to categorize yet more wolfish characteristics.

“Scott!! Lookout!” Allison called from her post by the vehicles, bow out and arrow notched. A pair of Omegas were circling Scott, and she warned him just as the one behind Scott lunged for his neck.

His eyes glowed deep red as he wrapped his hand around the wolf’s head, grabbed the scruff, and threw him into the other wolf, lunging toward Scott when the Omega saw the advantage of a turned back. They tumbled into each other, yelping as one hit the ground weirdly. Scott growled menacingly at the two, and they snarled back in reply as they regained their balance.

Scott had his GRRR face on, and man was it not scary. Stiles still giggled a little on the inside when he saw Scott’s werewolf side. It may not have been very bright that night, but the trees were sparse and dry near the ravine, which meant less tripping and fewer things to run headfirst into.

They had concocted the plan to drive the Omegas to the ravine, where Stiles had drawn a half circle and would close the circle once the Omegas were tucked safely onto the ledge of the ravine. Allison had been with Scott the entire night, so she had helped push them towards the ravine with the help of her dad’s hearing/sensory gadget. The ravine was in sight, and Scott was losing control of the situation. The Omegas continually nipped at his heels, until Scott finally doubled over from the pain and shock of nerve snaps. One Omega began dashing away, and the other lunged, snarling towards a wounded Scott.

“Scott! Shut your eyes!” Allison shot a flash bang into the ground nearest the Omega, who yelped in surprise and pain. Stiles took the chance to run forward, shouldering the Omega away from Scott and his falling defenses. He tumbled the opposite direction of the wolf, who was so caught up in the flash bang he still hadn’t recognized what had hit him. The wolf shook his head to get his eyesight back.

Just a few more feet and Stiles could complete the circle! He scrambled up, towards the wolf, which could make out slight images of the things around him. Stiles yelled a battle cry that was fierce enough to make the wolf stumble and backtrack. “SCOTT your turn!” Stiles rushed the wolf again, physically pushing him back this time. Stiles was getting much too close though…

Scott raised his head to see the second rush, and to see that the wolf was preparing to launch itself at Stiles. As if it was in slow motion, the wolf’s haunches coiled, and as Stiles pushed him the second time, Scott roared forward. The wolf’s jaws missed their target, but the force of Scott’s weight and the wolf’s weight combining in momentum sent Stiles flying into a tree. His back hit first, and his head second. Scott slipped his arms and body around the Omega’s before the wolf could pounce Stiles to the ground and bite, but their bodies clipped Stiles. They rolled for a moment on the earth before momentum took them to the Ravine, where Scott scrambled up and out of the half ring of mountain ash.  
Allison came up close behind Stiles as he gasped for air towards the ledge. He dug out the bottle of mountain ash and began centering himself. The Omega was up on its feet now, pacing back and forth the few feet it could go, looking for ways to get out beyond the three.

Allison notched her bow, and without affirmation from Scott, shot the werewolf with a tazing arrow. It slumped down to the ground within seconds. She glanced over at Stiles, who was already opening up the bottle to close the circle of mountain ash.

“How long will he be out?” Scott asked without looking up from the Omega.

“At least until sunrise. Which is…about 3 hours from now.”

“Good, that’ll be plenty of time to get Derek over here and decide what to do with him.” Scott replied with a sigh, hand raking through his hair. Allison came over to him and planted a soft kiss on his cheek, wrapping her arms around him.

Stiles was already walking slowly back to his Jeep.

“Hey, dude, where are you going? You’re hurt.”

Stiles turned around to look at the star crossed lovers, hands around each other.

“Naw, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” He flashed them a smile walked a bit more quickly to the jeep.

“Sti-“

“Just let him be Scott…I bet he’s tired.” Stiles heard Allison say.

Stiles drove off without another glance behind.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles lay in his bedroom, just like the night before, and the night before. Isaac, Scott, Allison and Lydia had taken a short, well deserved vacation. Stiles had declined to go, joking that his dad wouldn’t survive without giving him his boxed lunches every day. Sheriff Stilinski definitely could have survived without him for a few days. In fact, the Sheriff would probably had loved to have Stiles out of the house and out with friends for once.

“Alright…well if you’re sure you don’t want to come Stiles…I guess we’ll see you later! Don’t do anything stupid!” Scott had said to him through the passenger side window of the Argent’s SUV, Allison in the driver’s seat and Isaac and Lydia in the back. Those were Scott’s parting words to his friend as Stiles watched them drive off into the blaring noon sun.

He opened up another wrapper and put the contents in his mouth. The same taste, over and over again. It was relieving, but monotonous. Reach down, open, insert, chew, swallow, repeat.

He uncomfortably shifted on his bed. He’d been staring at his ceiling for a while, already done contemplating life, again. His clothes had rucked up awkwardly underneath him, and he tried to straighten them out to no avail.

Suddenly there was a knock on his window. Stiles lazily turned his head, still lying on the bed, to see Derek’s murderously handsome face staring back at him. He got up with a slight struggle, huffing in annoyance. Damn wereman still didn’t know how to use the front door? Stiles thought for a moment he should find a newspaper, roll it up, and start hitting Derek on the nose when he did something wrong. Like knock on the window instead of the front door. Stiles huffed out a laugh as he walked over to the window and just stared. Derek stared back.

Stiles fidgeted with his clothes, unable to keep still under the stare, before asking, “What do you want Derek.” He didn’t open the window.

“I can break this, you know.” Derek rapped on the glass with his knuckle, voice muffled.

Stiles huffed again, and unlocked the window, walking back to his bed. Derek pushed it open and slid in, looking about the room skeptically.

Stiles, quickly realizing his room was a mess, started kicking things to the corners, and even more quickly emptied all the wrappers and cans into the trash. He turned around when he was done to see Derek watching him, arms crossed, with a ‘dear lord why am I here’ look on his face. Stiles’ face blushed up quickly and he scratched the back of his head, glancing up at Derek.

“So what’s up Sourwolf?”

Derek looked him up and down slowly. “We need to talk about the Omegas.”

“Uhhh ok, well sit down I guess.”

He stayed standing in the middle of the room. Stiles sat down on the corner of his bed, looking at the ground.

“The Omega Scott trapped-“

“Hey I, ME, STILES did the trapping! Not Romeo! Get it right Sourwolf, Puppyears isn’t the only useful one around here!” Stiles jumped up and declared. Derek just glared at him, so Stiles sat back down with a resigned look, “continue.”

“The one you trapped has been taken care of. He’s been scared off permanently, with some lasting reminders not to come back. But the other one is still a problem. He knows we scared off his brother, and left our mark on him, and wants revenge. It’s a stupid move, and even he has to know that. The others left without taking this into consideration, so I need you to be careful and watch out for him. I can handle the rest.”

“Wow the man who thrives off of death threats and pain has a heart. Thanks for the warning but I can handle it too, if you haven’t noticed.”

A dark eyebrow arched in response (the man had immaculate eyebrows) and took that as his que to leave, "Just watch out."

Stiles just watched, as he slipped out into the darkness. For the rest of the night, he couldn’t sleep.

He kept glancing out his window, imagining ice blue eyes leering back at him. The Reese’s peanut butter cups had stood no chance against his nerves. He kept imagining big yellow eyes glaring at him from his closet door. The abundance of Milky Way bars dwindled down to nothing.

He imagined a man standing over his bed, with scraggly hair tied loosely back, dirt covering his face, and shiny blue eyes reaching down to grab him by the throat, and squeeze the air out of his lungs. The man Stiles thought he had been imagining punched him, hard, and before Stiles slipped from consciousness, he remembered being dragged out of bed and out his window into the swallowing black night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stiles woke up, groggy and pained. Why did his cheek sting so much? He tried to open his eyes, to only stare at nothing. He wiggled his head a little, and found there was something tied around his eyes. His arms were bound above his head, coiled in chains, feet barely touching the ground. He tried to kick out, but found his feet were tied together, chained tightly to the ground. Stiles’ heart sped up, and he gulped in air that he didn’t know he had been withholding. ‘Oh SHIT ohshitohshitohshit…’

“Smartass is awake now, is he?” He heard a grungy, harsh voice whisper.

Stiles whipped his head in the direction of the voice, “Who are you,” he asked, voice shaky but calm.

“Mmmm, you should know, we met only a few nights ago…”

Stiles’ heart leapt up into his chest. “The other Omega!” This wasn’t good. Stiles started struggling more, the chains rocking back and forth with his weight.

“Easy there, little bird.” A hand ran down his sweat stained cheek. “You should keep your strength. You’ll need it, in order to stay awake. I need you to stay awake…” He purred.

The hand clenched into a fist by Stiles’ throat, and punched him playfully in the chest. And again, a little harder in his sternum. And again, really hard in his stomach.

Stiles keeled over, as much as the chains would let him, all the air gone from his lungs. He gulped and coughed, choking on his own tongue trying to get oxygen.

“You’ll pay for what you did!!” He roared in Stiles’ ear.

Stiles cringed in fear, the stench so palpable he thought he could smell it.

A claw dug in into his side, sharp and long. Stiles hissed at the pain. “YES little bird, I will mark you the same way your pack marked mine.”

The blindfold came off and Stiles had a quick moment to adjust his eyes to see they were in some kind of warehouse, small, overgrown with shrubs. The moonlight shown in through the broken roof, shining brightly on a table full of rusty old tools, presumably from around the warehouse. The man with the scraggly beard stepped into his line of sight. He picked up a wrench and stared at it thoughtfully.

“You know, little bird, I could use my own hands to mark you. But I always found that blood on my hands was never very appealing. I much prefer to use other means of inflicting pain.” He grinned manically at Stiles, wide and full of teeth. His eyes flashed blue and his canines elongated. “It’s always such a joy to see handiwork from substitute weaponry.”  
He walked up to Stiles, smile still in place.

As the Omega stalked up to Stiles, he realized something horrible…he was alone. No one was around to care if he was alive or dead. Derek didn’t care. Isaac, Lydia, Scott and Allison were away. On vacation. And he was here being tortured. No one was coming here to save him. His anguish showed on his face, and wave of pure sadness shoved off of in droves. No one was coming.

No one.

The Omega stumbled at his approach, feeling the overwhelming sadness. “Oooh…poor little bird…I’m sorry for you. I am. Maybe pain can help you feel better.” For some reason, the Omega sounded truly sincere…and Stiles welcomed him. He looked at the Omega with pleading eyes.

The wrench swung at his face, and he felt his skin break open. A warm liquid seeping down his neck, into his shirt. He kept his mouth shut, not allowing sound to escape.  
He felt like he was floating in a sea of pins and needles. He didn’t care of the Omega felt like he was winning or not, but he wouldn’t allow himself to scream, Stiles wouldn’t allow the werewolf that much pleasure.

He felt the wrench hit his other cheek then, and he bit back the cry of pain in his throat. He felt the cold metal on his ribs, twice in the same spot. He opened his eyes and a strangled gasp escaped. Spots swam before his eyes, blotting out the moonlight and the man here and there.

“Yesss little bird! Louder!!” The omega almost yelled at him.

Stiles saw him pick up another instrument, what looked like a hand saw. He couldn’t help it, his fear was getting the better of his internal suffering. He squirmed in his bindings, finding his clothes were soaked to him, slick with sweat.

“I think the sound of ripping flesh-“ the saw was at Stiles’ arm, “is something any person would enjoy.” He pulled down slightly, and the teeth of the saw grabbed at Stiles’ flesh, biting it and pulled at strands. A deep gash was in his shoulder, small pieces of skin dangling down. Stiles ground on his bottom lip, trying desperately not to cry out.

The Omega placed the saw on Stiles’ ribcage and swiftly pushed and pulled, another deep gash forming. Almost, almost did Stiles cry out. His mouth opened in another strangled scream.

“LOUDER LITTLE BIRD!!” The handsaw crashed to the ground, and the Omega swiped his claws up and down Stile’s shirt, tearing his skin from his chest down past his waistline. The shirt was in threads, and the Omega gripped them to rip it off of him. The fabric left burn marks on his neck and armpits.

Stiles could no longer keep it in, and he screamed. He screamed so loud the Omega dropped the fabric of Stiles’ shirt and covered his ears.

The man opened his eyes, squinted and ice blue, and snarled at Stiles. He approached Stiles again, slowly. Stalking his wounded and begging prey.

“Nonono! STOP leave me alone!” he screeched at the werewolf. He thrashed in his bindings and tried to get away.

“Mmm, little bird it seems you’re not so much a little bird but a little pig instead. Has the big bad wolf blown down your defenses?”

Stiles didn’t hear him, he was too focused on the sheer pain writhing inside of him.

He felt a claw dig into his thigh, and drag down. He could hear the skin splitting slowly, and the pain was terrible. He opened his eyes a moment, tears streaming down, to see the werewolf picking up a long, thick metal rod. The Omega looked at him, and grinned with such malice Stiles shivered and looked away. Pain was radiating from everywhere in his body, and he tried to clamp down on it with little determination.

“SCREAM FOR ME LITTLE PIG!” The Omega pulled back the metal rod like a baseball bat, and swung wildly. There was not much Stiles could do to prepare for the pain, because it came too quickly. It hit him in the other thigh, and another blow came so quickly Stiles couldn’t breathe through the pain. It hit him again in the stomach, a jab to his insides. And again, down onto his elbow. Once more, into the side of his head.

“AAAHHHHHHHH!!” Stiles sobbed out a long, hoarse cry with each blow. Tears were streaming down his face, blood and snot and sweat mixing and dripping off of him. On the last blow, the one to his head, a bloodcurdling scream left his lips, before he blacked out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> editted

++++++

A blurred image of dark hair.

Darkness.

Red eyes flashed.

Darkness.

A muffled scream.

Light filtered through.

Stiles’ eyes slowly opened. They felt throttled and tight.

“Stiles?” Someone whispered. It was a male voice, low and husky. Filled with worry.

“It’s ok Stiles, you’re safe.” The voice faded from existence.

++++++

When Stiles woke again, he saw a man standing near a table, hands clasping something. Stiles struggled in his position to get up, to get away. It didn’t help that his vision was blurry and that his entire body felt so heavy and hard to move. 

The man heard him struggling and turned around. “Nngghh, no, get a-away!” Stiles cried pitifully, his throat hoarse and sore.

“No, Stiles! Stiles! It’s ok, it’s Derek! I’m Derek. You’re safe with me.”

Stiles froze and stared for a moment, before collapsing into the bed. Derek came to his side, a dark cloth in his hand. He raised it up to Stiles’ face, who flinched away from it. “Easy, Stiles. It’s ok.” He raised his hand slower, letting Stiles see it was a washcloth. Derek touched it to his face, easing the offensive cloth down his cheek. Blood smeared away, leaving a clean stubbly cheek in its place.

Stiles let his head drop back to the pillow with a weary sigh and licked his lips. He let Derek work in peace, but Derek could hear how hard the boy's heart was beating. His chest rose up and down dramatically, the forced labor of one who was on the verge of falling apart. Half an hour later, the silence was unending until Stiles finally spoke.

“I...I thought…I thought I was going to die,” He whispered, almost too quietly. His eyes were distant and his entire body was rigid.

Derek glanced up. Stiles looked like hell. His cheeks were swollen and puffy, gashes lining his bones, and angry red outlined in bruising yellow and green. His body wasn’t much better off, if not worse. Deep gouges lined his chest and stomach, skin lacerated and ragged. Blood leaked from then sporadically. The wound in his thigh was probably in need of stitches. The long cut on his arm was the best off of them all.

“You didn’t. I got there in time.” Derek placed a hand on Stiles’ forearm, partly for comfort, partly to continue leeching pain.

Stiles’ eyes darted to Derek’s face, who was still eyeing his body. Stiles felt like squirming under the gaze. “How did you find me?”

“I heard you scream.”

Stiles pushed his head further back into the pillow, eyes closed. His insides twisted at the memories of the blue eyed Omega.

Derek chewed the inside of his cheek and watched Stiles. Hearing the bloody end of the Omega might just make Stiles pass out or cry in relief, and Derek didn’t know which was worse. 

“When I got there, you were passed out…uh…hanging from the ceiling.” Derek stared at the wall above Stiles’ head and paused. That image was burned into his skull forever. 

Derek sucked in a deep breath, eyes glowing red and closing before he released his breath. His eyes weren’t normal when they opened again, and he growled out the rest of his words, “the omega was picking up a fishing hook, cackling about your…what he had done to you…and then I ripped his head off.” Yep. Just like that. And that’s all that needed to be said. The eyes of a ruby fire glowed brightly, fangs elongated and bared at the wall next to Stiles’ face. 

Derek had wolfed out completely, and lost total control when he found Stiles. He remembered the tear of bones and tissue and ligaments, the blood spewing all over, and the heavy thud of the body falling next to him vividly. Derek had shredded the body to pieces, ripped into it until bone showed through patches of skin and blood spattered the walls. He had lost himself for a moment in the need for bloodlust, for vengeance, but after looking at Stiles once more, a cold chill ran up Derek’s spine and he focused on getting Stiles down.

Derek tore gently at the strips binding Stiles’ hands, and unchained his feet. The shirt Stiles’ had been wearing was unsalvageable, and Derek so very tenderly had cut it off of him, trying not to catch any of the strands of skin hanging off of his body. His jeans as well were torn, but had been kept on. As Stiles’ body had slumped against him slowly after each bondage had been cut, Derek placed one arm around his neck and carried him bridal style all the way back to Hale Manor, careful of all the upturned roots and slopes of the land. Nothing else would hurt Stiles. Derek wouldn’t let it. 

Stiles had been unconscious for almost a day, enough time for Derek to clean and air out many of the wounds without worry of seeing the pain on Stiles’ face.

“Derek?” Stiles looked at him worriedly, only because Derek could feel his face transformed wolfishly and canines digging into his gums. Derek calmed himself down again, with some effort.

“I told your dad I needed you for pack-related things. He doesn’t know anything about what happened.”

Stiles was silent. 

“I-uh-still need to clean up your leg. It’s pretty bad.” 

More silence. It made Derek uncomfortable. Stiles was never silent.

“How much does it hurt to move?” Derek asked.

Stiles arched his back slightly to try moving over in the bed. It didn’t work. He stifled a cry of pain and tried to slowly lower himself back down. He looked at Derek, whose eyes were red again, and tried to smile, “I didn’t know you cared so much Sourwolf.”

“Shut up Stiles.” Derek looked too serious for Stiles to continue. He became silent again. “I still need to clean your thigh.”

“So, what, are you gonna rip off my pants or just slice em up so I have to wear short shorts?” Keep talking, Stiles. Activity keeps your mind off of the memories. You practiced this. 

“Do you want to keep these pants and have to explain to your dad why they’re so ripped up and bloodied?”

“Point taken. Slice and dice.” Crap. Out of conversation already.

Stiles’ body went rigid again as the nerves hit him once more. He breathed deeply through his nose, trying to calm his heart, but it wouldn’t listen. This ptsd would be hard to kick…but at least the pain kept him grounded, kept him from remembering everything.

Derek carefully peeled back the cloth from his thigh, where the denim was already cut. It was dried to his skin, and Stiles hissed out a breath, clenching his jaw and suddenly gripping the arm that Derek was using to leech pain out of him. His nails dipped into the skin, red crescent indents shaping. He looked apologetically at Stiles, and swiftly pulled back on the slit in the jeans, essentially tearing off the leg. Stiles screamed in his throat, tears forming in his eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s cool Sourwolf, just keep going.” Stiles said without breathing.

Derek immediately went back to work. He sliced the jeans with his claws and slid them out from under Stiles’ legs. The washcloth followed immediately after, wiping away dried blood on his sore muscles and skin. After a few moments of silence, Derek looked up warily at Stiles.

“So…the best way to start the healing process is for me to...ahh…lick the wound.” Derek looked away uncomfortably.

Stiles choked on the air he was inhaling before coming up with: “Couldn’t you at least take me out on a date first?! Jeez Derek never thought you were the type to take advantage…”

“Shut UP Stiles…”

It’s not like Derek had never licked a pack member before. It was just that Stiles had just been violently tortured and should have been very sensitive to any action Derek made and very aware of what he had been through. Derek knew what Stiles must be going through, his way of coping was just so different... There were other reasons too, ones that seemed so trivial in comparison to what the boy had just been through. However trivial they were though, one can never help what the feel automatically. Derek had problems with Stiles, but not bad problems. It just…it was Stiles. STILES. He was the one kid who made him second guess his sanity, his motives, his ethics…his sexuality. Stiles was attractive, yes, but Derek had never felt the urge to make a move on him…even so, just the fact that Derek was ok with admitting he was attracted to Stiles, made it all the more uncomfortable to be licking him. Everywhere.

And well, we all knew Stiles was undeniably bi-curious. If that turned into bisexual or gay or straight, who’s to know any better? 

All Stiles knew was that Derek was gripping Stiles’ calf, mouth open slightly to start licking at the gash in his thigh. He focused on that action. That was definitely something he could do. He watched Derek’s tongue snake out at the corner, careful of the pressure he applied. Stiles watched his tongue move up, slowly. It felt smooth, wet, bumpy in a few places.

“Pepe le Pew could take a few pointers from you.” Stiles blurted out.

Derek’s warm breathe puffed out against his skin, and Stiles saw his cheeks pull up in a small grin before he continued licking again.

“Stiles, why don’t you keep your mouth shut and try to sleep. If you aren’t wasting energy talking, then there’s more for healing.”

“I-“

Stiles shut his mouth. Derek had a very good point, and if he didn’t want everyone to make a big deal out of this then he’d be better off listening. They all had their own problems to worry about, he didn’t want to burden them all with this; his life being threatened…but besides, his voice was hoarse, and his throat was raw from screaming.

That was reason enough to be quiet for once, however scared he was of what his dreams would consist of.

Stiles settled back in his pillow a bit, and closed his eyes, but before he tried sleeping, he said, “Just remember Derek, as much of a Sleeping Beauty as I am, I don’t need a kiss to be woken up.”  
Derek looked up sharply, eyes wide, “Sti-!”

It was like instant off for a Stilinski. Little bit of drama, little bit of torture, and they pass right out.

Derek’s frown lessened and he continued his progress up Stiles’ thigh, holding the skin close together, to help the epidermal layers begin their reattachment process. Maybe stitches weren't necessary this time. He moved to Stiles’ arm, and up to his cheeks. If Stiles had been awake, Derek would have been blushing something fierce. Witty banter or not, he was still licking someone’s cheek. The cut on the other side of Stile’s face required him to almost straddle the boy. He licked Stiles’ head, and when satisfied, Derek worked his way down the sleeping beauty’s body, licking at his chest, the sparse hairs tickling his lips and chin.

Such a compromising position after such a terrible ordeal.

Derek paused in his pursuit of cleansing and tracked his progress. The upper half of Stiles’ body was looking better already. The wounds weren’t so harsh around the edges, and they’d been airing out for so long they probably could be patched up now. Below his pecs however…that was a different story. Derek was still half on top of Stiles, hands gripping his forearms, and there wasn’t much he could do to stop his gaze from wandering towards a particular rounding middle section.

That was surprising. 

Derek stared at Stiles’ stomach for a while, making sure to continue touching him, to leech away the strong pain still so very persistent. But the pain wasn’t just in Stiles now. With each breath the boy took, his stomach rose slightly, and Derek couldn’t tear his eyes from the small pinkish white stretchmarks lining Stiles’ lower abdomen. He supposed he hadn’t noticed them before because of the giant red marks on his chest, but even so…they were unmistakably there. As a sign that Stiles was quickly gaining weight. As a sign that Stiles now had a small, growing gut on his frame. A sign that was somehow turning Derek on. Now was SO definitely not the time for that, holy crap. He needed to focus!

Derek immediately closed his eyes and sniffed out the last wound that needed licking rather than look at the body beneath him. It smelled rotten and rusty, most likely from the Omega’s claws and blood dried in the wound still. His nose rubbed up against the softness of Stiles’ belly on accident, and Derek pulled back a bit, frowning at himself. His tongue flicked out to test the carnage, and instead the skin was so smooth and soft beneath him he almost continued testing this new bit of flesh.

He growled softly and forced himself to start licking at the wound instead, tasting the rot and rusted metallic tang. His hands let go of Stiles’ wrists and found his waist instead. Don’t do anything but lick, and keep licking, keep fixing, keep draining his pain, keeping healing him, don’t do anything but lick.

So focused on trying to be focused, Derek didn’t notice the shift in his physical attention. The hands now gripping extra flesh eased in tension, and the tongue formerly lapping at a wound had drifted to the coarse hairs underneath a belly button.

“Ngh…goddamnit…” Derek said, eyes still closed and head hanging low. His breathing was deep and long, attempting a calming effect. His hands were on the bed on either side of Stiles, not touching him. Stiles would be ok for the moment, without the pain drain.

Cuz this was too goddamn hard.

Derek pushed himself up so he was kneeling next to Stiles, grabbing Stiles’ arm to start the pain drain again. He gazed down at the sleeping boy next to him, eyes immediately moving down to Stiles’ stomach. With each breath he took, it rose up considerably. His heart beat was still erratic and hard, but it was slower than before, a bit more rhythmic. Derek changed focus on the gashes down Stiles’ torso, satisfied when they appeared to be stitching together slowly.

Stiles had more color to his pale body now. He looked better, less in pain. The wounds looked much better than they had a short while ago.  
With a nod, Derek grabbed the gauze and started wrapping up the more prominent wounds. He would let the boy sleep for a while longer until he brought Stiles back to his house. He laid a hand on Stiles’ arm, reassured that he was safe and alive. 

Derek pulled up a chair close to the bed and began reading a book.


	4. Midnight Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> haha yea right imma give you one. 
> 
> if you've ever given good massages before, you'll know face massages are the best ever.

Stiles woke up in his bed, sunlight streaming in through the window in a deep slant. Was it like, five or something?

He grimaced as he sat up, looking around his room, and as expected, he was alone. “Dad?” he called out. No reply. He glanced at the clock by the side of his bed, reading 7:42 pm. There was a note next to his clock. He picked it up and softly read aloud, “Stiles, your dad is on duty again. If the pain starts getting bad, text me right away. Also, the pack is back, and they know. – D.”

“fuckin a….” Stiles groaned into the air, thumb and index finger rubbing at his throbbing temples.

He looked down at himself, clothes ill-fitting and half naked as he was, but not in terrible shape. His pain was mostly bearable, the wounds on his chest and arm were healed considerably well. The ache in his bones and muscles was made him very cautious, not allowing any sudden movements.

Stiles decided that after the ordeal he went through, he deserved a nice, long, hot and relaxing shower. The water felt cool on his skin at first, not giving it any time to heat up.

After Stiles got out, he laid down on his back, allowing the towel to slide off his body slightly. God was he in pain. His joints ached so much he could barely shower. His scrubby loofa thing had snagged on some of his scabs, pulling at them and making him ache more. The healing effect of an alpha was apparently wearing away a lot sooner than he expected. His eyes closed as he took in his comforting surroundings. His warm plushy bed, the soft towel around his middle, the cool air circulating in his room.

Suddenly there was a knock on his window. Stiles turned his head slightly only to see the puppy eyes of his sometimes-questionable best friend drooping at him.

“…Scott?” Stiles struggled to get up without grimacing or moving too quickly, and opened the window.

Scott jumped in, not making eye contact with his friend. Stiles had expected someone to show up, but not this soon. He knew he wasn’t anyone’s top priority.

“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. And apologize. And maybe make it up to you. I should have been there and I wasn’t and-” Scott whispered hastily. Anger was clear in his stance, and the deep bow of his head was a sure sign of guilt.

“I’m fine bro. I hope you had fun on your vacation. I certainly had a blast with that Omega, he really knew his way around hand tools….” Stiles scratched the back of his head. You could plainly hear the contempt in his voice, and he wasn’t doing anything to hide it. The wounds on his body shone brightly in contrast to his towel, and even more so to his statement. Stiles most definitely was not fine. There was the possibility that he could have been fine, had his friends been there, or taken him along…'hah… friends my ass…' he thought. “Hey Scott, Why don’t you just go back to Allison, I know you want to bro. It’s okay, I understand. I’m totally fine.”

It may not have been the truth, but it also wasn’t a lie. Stiles wasn’t sure if Scott would be able to tell the difference, which part was lie and which part was truth. Scott was avoiding all eye contact, and seemingly ignoring the things Stiles said. When in fact, he was listening to the erratic beating of Stiles’ heart, but he seemed to refocused on the last words. “…What? No, I want to be here right now.”

Stiles didn’t say anything, just sat down on the bed and stared at his feet. He tried to hide the smile that graced his lips when Scott said that. It was a small confirmation that Scott still cared, and could have a mind for others besides Allison. His towel was clutched tightly around his waist. Scott moved forward from the window and sat down next to Stiles.

“So…where do you hurt the most?” Scott looked at him with endearment, guilt and anger mostly gone from his features.

“Everywhere. Every single part of me is in pain, Scott…” Scott didn’t hear the double meaning behind Stiles’ words, but even so, he moved behind Stiles and sniffed deeply in the crook of his friend’s neck, and whispered, “Just try to relax, then.”

Scott moved behind Stiles and placed his hands on Stiles’ arms, doing a quick sweep from forearms to lower back, and up again to the base of his neck. His hands then began some beyond-magical massaging. He slowly worked his way from Stiles’ neck towards Stiles’ shoulders and arms, and working his way back to his neck. Werewolf powers or not, Stiles was feeling better already. The pain leeched away slowly, but the massaging was leaving his muscles tenderer than they were before, in a good way. Scott avoided the gashes carefully, rerouting his hands to work the muscles in different areas, in strange ways. His hands made their way down Stiles’ back, working between his shoulder blades, kneading his lower back. It made Stiles groan appreciatively, a deep and long pleasure-filled sound (but not the sexual kind, get your heads out of the gutter).

“You learn this from your mom?” Stiles asked. 

“Kinda. She sometimes helped out in the Orthopedics department, and before I turned, I used to get a lot of muscles spasms all over because there was too much tension in my back after practice, so she used to fix it for me or show me how to fix it myself.”

“Wow that’s actually pretty useful.” Stiles was impressed that Scott remembered all this. He was damn good at it too.

“Yea, heheh, I s’pose so.”

Stiles didn’t respond, just relaxed more and let Scott continue his work.

Scott worked his way back up Stiles’ spine into the soft hairs at the base of his neck and pulled gently, massaging his skull with calloused fingers. His hand continued up onto the top of his skull and Scott rubbed above his ears, to his temples, and smoothing out the stressed and wrinkled skin.

Scott was very close behind Stiles now, body pushing against body. His hands followed the strong jawline of his best friend, pulling the many facial muscles. “Did you know that the hands and face are the most used parts of the body, but they are also the most neglected? It takes so many miniscule muscle twitches and pulls to make the simplest facial expression.” Stiles made a sound in the back of his throat in response, allowed his head to lean back against Scott’s chest. Scott’s hands followed the base line of cheek bones, under his eye brows and the bone of his eye sockets, pulled down on the skin of the nose. There was a space behind the back of his jaw, the muscles underneath the ear where the jaw hinge exists, that dearly needed attending to simply because Stiles talked so much, so Scott spent a while rotating and pushing and rubbing at the muscle. The bruises on his face were a non-painful shade of yellow now.

Scott pushed Stiles forward gently, and he whined slightly at the loss. Scott chuckled, “I’m going to work on your front now, ok?” Scott moved from behind Stiles, sidling over to his side.  
Stiles scooted onto the bed more and lay down on his back as Scott said, “K, uhm….this is going to be really awkward… but in order to do it properly…” he trailed off.

Stiles closed his eyes in preparation, not new to having front massages. He felt Scott hover above him, his warm breath ghosting his chest, and settle on Stiles’ lap. He felt warm, strong, calloused hands reach his chest, and practically grope him. Which, you know, essentially is how a chest/front massage works. 

Stiles burst out laughing, imagining the scene from an outside perspective. His body rumbled underneath Scott, who looked down at Stiles incredulously. “I’m sorry Scott, but this is just so weird to not be funny.”

Scott chuckled a little bit as he thought about it. “Yea I guess you’re right.”

“Hey dude don’t get a boner. I mean we’ve had boners at the same time before but I really don’t want your little erection rubbin all up on me.”

“Haha don’t worry I won’t.” He ignored the jibe at the size of his dong, but Scott jokingly wiggled his hips a little. So, he probably didn’t know this seeing as how he’d never topped a guy before, but when people with nice bubble butts grind (even jokingly) against a dick that just so happens to be under said bubble butt, boners tend to be the end result. With that being said, Stiles’ dick gave a happy little jump in response. Scott didn’t feel it, simply because his was in the process of leaning forward to rest his palms on Stiles’ chest.

Ignoring the movement as much as he could, Stiles contemplated the events of the day, versus what was happening now, and how deeply aware he was becoming of Scott. His body was still, hands splayed across Stile’s chest, simple, content, and totally at ease. Their groins touched obscenely. Stiles was still in just a towel. Scott’s triceps were practically busting out of his skin. His hair trickled into his eyes. Which so happened to be wandering Stiles’ body beneath him. The now less-angry looking gashes on his chest and stomach had lessened greatly, thanks to an almost 24 hours of constant magical werewolf healing powers.

Stiles cleared his throat, and gestured for him to continue.

Scott chuckled again, a deep rhythm that sent vibrations through his body. “Sorry…I’m just…they look better. Sorry.” Scott closed his eyes as he focused on his work and his hands began to move again. Obviously, you can’t get any good push into the massage if there’s nothing you can propel yourself against. He gently rocked his hips as he pushed and squeezed at the muscular pecs of Stiles’ chest, urging himself to seep every last ache and pain out of Stiles. But…was it just Scott…or did they appear to be more fleshy than they used to be? They really weren’t all that hard anymore, not like they should be…He brushed it off and continued his leeching journey down Stile’s torso. He felt the slightly coarse hairs as his hands travelled down the soft skin, consistently getting more pliant the further down he went, avoiding as much of the wounds as was possible.

Ok that’s weird though, Stiles shouldn’t be that soft…

He opened his eyes to grip the soft flesh underneath his palm. ‘What…that doesn’t make sense…’ He smooged it between his thumb and forefinger, playing it gently back and forth. Scott quirked his head at it and grabbed more, squeezing slightly until he heard the smallest whimper come from in front of him. Measuring the amount of skin between his hands, Scott figured it was maybe a solid four inches of flesh he was grabbing.

His hand rested on Stiles’ stomach, noticing there was a slight bow to his belly. He ghosted his hand of the curve, and heard a huff of air. Suddenly, Scott was hit with a wall of a delicious, hot and sweet smell. He sniffed the air again, wondering what it was. He looked at Stiles, who was glaring at the ceiling, his Adam’s apple bobbing fast, biting his bottom lip.

“Stiles?”

“Y-yea Scott.”

“Are you okay…”

“Mhm, yup, totally fine, nothing wrong.”

Scott looked backed down at the flesh between his fingers and let it go. It jiggled, just the tiniest bit, and settled back in place.

“Uhh…Stiles?”

Stiles just breathed out a questioning sound in response.

“When did you start…getting…”

“I have no idea. I haven’t really had a reason to look in the mirror lately.” Stiles still couldn’t bring himself to look at Scott, or down at himself, or anywhere that had color or a light or anything. His eyes were wide with emotions.

“Oh…”

“Yup.”

Scott started to move off of Stiles, staring at his small belly. Instead of moving away, he tumbled onto Stiles’ side down by his belly, head propped up on his hand and parallel to the itty bitty belly before him. He raised a finger and poked it slowly, twice. He liked watching his finger sink into it. His hand splayed flat near the belly button, as his thumb slowly caressed the super soft skin. A weird feeling was pooling in the pit of his stomach, sparking with each move his thumb made. He’d never felt this feeling before…it was strange, and the only word he could think to describe it was ‘deep’, like it started in his very core. The wolf in him growled softly. His brows pulled together in a frowny knit.

“Dude…Scott…wha-“

“Shut up and just lemme…” Scott lifted his body up slightly, so that he could look down at the small globe of flesh beneath him. He had the urge to feel it, smell it, taste it. He needed to find out why this feeling was coming now, of all times. It resembled want. It felt like lust. But…why? With a quick glance at Stiles, who was still staring at the ceiling, he bent his head over and smelled. Just smelled like Stiles. Smelled of sun, dirt, and bark. Earthly. He pressed his cheek in the softness, turning his face slowly into it. Another waft of the hot sweet smell hit him, and Stiles squirmed underneath him. His belly moved in the most intriguing way when he did that, a slight ripple here and there, a small jiggle until it settled down again, and Scott couldn’t help himself; his tongue snaked out and traced a circle around Stiles’ belly button, one hand pushing the small amount of adipose towards his face. His tongue made another circle, and his mouth closed on the flesh pushed into his face as he turned his head to nuzzle the softness. Stiles gasped loudly, which made Scott look up at him.

Stiles’ hands were twisted in his sheets by his sides and he was now breathing heavily. Scott looked down at the belly in his hands, and in his peripherals noticed the bulge in the white towel. His eyes widened in surprise and he immediately let go of Stiles, scrambling off the bed in a rush. He stood there for a moment, dumbstruck and unknowing of what to do or what had just happened. With a glance at Stiles again, he mumbled an apology and quickly slipped out the window.

Stiles let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, long and shaky. His hands released their death grip on his sheets, and his legs hung down in relief off the side of the bed.

“What in the actual fuck was that…” he whispered to the ceiling.

Scott didn’t actually leave the grounds of the house. He stood in the dark, peering into Stiles’ window. The ache in his hands and mouth, in a place deep inside him, pooled even lower than his stomach. He was suddenly hyper aware of how hard his cock was throbbing. He palmed it through his pants, unknowing as to WHY he had the hardest erection he’s ever had before, but just that it related to the amount of flesh on his best friend’s middle...Scott reveled in the change, as weird as it seemed. Scott watched Stiles sit up, now paying more attention to the pale flesh above his towel rather than his face. It rolled into two very different rolls. The bottom one smooged sizably out over the top of Stiles’ towel, and the top one a tiny little roll seemingly trapped between what used to be pecs and the lower portion of his stomach. Stiles raised a hand slowly and gripped the side of belly, testing its weight it appeared. Scott’s cock twitched maniacally and his breath hitched in the back of his throat.

Scott turned away, unable to breath for a few moments, almost hyperventilating. He needed to think. He needed to not be here right now.

Scott ran into the woods, and ran until the moon was high into the night, ran until his erection was gone, and continued running when there was one thing left he couldn’t get rid of. No matter what he did, the sight in his mind could not yet be erased.


	5. Chapter 5

For the next week and a half, Stiles got visits, however short and awkward they may have been, from Lydia, Allison, and Isaac. Even Danny came by once. Stiles was starting to gain hope back, thinking his friends weren’t as troubled as he thought, thinking he could start being happy again and hang out with them and go back to the way things were. He hadn’t seen Scott since…well uh since he had given Stiles a boner that was so hard it hurt. All because of his stupid curiosity taking over and his stupid tunnel vision attention span, not using all his senses to pay attention to everything, not just one thing he was stumped about….for being a werewolf, Scott pretty much sucked at being aware. Other than Scott though, things seemed like they were finally getting better.

And ever since the incident with Scott, Stiles had been hyper aware of his body. Every time there was a mirror, he was examining himself. When he got out of the shower, when he was changing his clothes, getting ready for bed or waking up in the morning, after breakfast and lunch and dinner and midnight snack-time. He was aware of how his clothes were starting to feel on him, the slight bulge of his sides over his pants, the many times he would take off his pants and see red lines marking his waist from too-tight pressure, and the other red lines marking the stretch of skin on his stomach. His stomach was never flat, he could grab a small handful of it, clothing was relatively tight across it, and he noticed a jiggle whenever he walked. When he looked at himself in the mirror, sometimes he would bounce up and down to watch the way it moved, like it was a separate part of him.

Stiles didn’t really have strong feelings one way or another about his weight gain. He didn’t feel like he needed to stop, or needed to keep going. It’s not like he’s got anyone to impress these days anyway, so what did it matter how he looked?

Still though, the looks he received from Isaac, who was the first to visit him after Scott, was enough to make him wear a looser shirt or sometimes a thin hoodie to hide his gain. It wasn’t noticeable anywhere else on his body except his waist and his thighs, really.

His weight gain was just another thing added to the long list of things he tried to keep hidden from the group.

Both times (twice in a week, high score!) when Allison had visited, multiple times she had made an excuse for Scott not being there, saying he had to train with Derek or do something for his mom. Stiles tried to respond accordingly, but fell short of it. Allison looked at him strangely every time, as if she wanted to ask if something had happened, but held back. She had wanted to see the gashes on his chest, but Stiles had refused each advance, saying they weren’t there anymore, there was nothing to see, that he had gotten plenty of magical werewolf healy powers to patch him up. Which was a lie. He still was in pain, even if it came sporadically, and the scars were deep and red, but everything was firmly reattached and skin was slowly regrowing under the scabs. His muscles still ached drastically, but he hid it well. It was a good thing Allison wasn’t a werewolf, or he’d be dead meat for lying. 

Derek hadn’t been by at all, which wasn’t surprising.

His dad had been weirded out, but thankful, for his friends returning to the house all of the sudden, even if it was for a short time. Stiles came out of his room more often to make food when his dad was home, to spend more time with him. Sheriff Stilinski happily obliged the change of behavior. Stiles was more upbeat again, and a bit more talkative. Sheriff was happy enough with that, even if Stiles still hadn’t gotten out of the house much other than to go to the grocery store (Stiles would go to a different grocery store every time around, so that he wasn’t recognized when he bought bags of chocolates and Oreos and candies and gummies of every flavor). Sneaky lil bastard.

He didn’t need his sweets anymore, but it was like an addiction, something where if he saw it, he couldn’t stop himself from buying it. Yea, he may not have needed them anymore, but he definitely got them whenever he could.

A few days after an awkward and silent visit from Lydia, who did nothing but comment on his dirty room, bad posture, and terrible choice in clothes for the day (and then say she’s glad he’s okay right before leaving), Allison texted him, asking him to play some  
tag football that night. Stiles panicked a little, not having gone out with his friends for a long, long time. 

He immediately started freaking himself out about the intentions behind them inviting him someplace because they haven’t done that in a long time and what if they were planning something but why would they be planning something they shouldn’t be that’s stupid Stiles stop thinking that…but what he was going to wear!? And what he was going to say, and what if he dropped the ball a lot because he actually really is a butterfingers god he hates butterfingers they always get stuck in his teeth and it took like forever to get it out oh god what if his teeth got knocked out and he had to get dentures and then he broke his bones and then everyone started calling him old man and then a witch came along and turned him into an old man and he got dementia or alzheimers or something and forgot how to play! *SUCKSINAIR* 

By the time it was time to go, he was bouncing off the walls in anticipation and nerves.

“Ok ok ok, easy Stiles easy it’s ok you can do this you’ll remember how to play and you won’t run anyone over and you won’t ramble on because you’re so nervous you could puke or wait what dude you’re just hanging out with your friends it’s not a big deal just slip into it easily stop worrying so much about not seeing them in forever because they’re selfish dicks and no stop that they’re not dicks they’re your friends chill the fuck out and go have some fun for once.” He took a deep breath as he rambled out his thoughts.

Despite this smallish anxiety attack, he managed to change his clothes, grab a granola bar and banana, lock the front door, and climb into his jeep steadily enough.

Stiles’ hand had the steering wheel in a death grip, and his foot danced hummingbird heartbeats against the brake pedal. He took another deep breath, started up the jeep, and headed off the field.

When he got there, he saw a LOT more people than he had originally expected. Danny, Greenberg, Aidan, Ethan, Lydia, Isaac, Scott, Derek, Allison, Cora, Brian, Heather, and Danielle. It’d be an even game, as long as the werewolves were all evened out between the teams. It was just going to be a fun, playful game (considering there were so many inexperienced girls on the team, the werewolf to non-sport playing female ratio was pretty overwhelming).

Stiles got out of his jeep to hear a rousing, “STILES!!” coming from multiple people in the group. He couldn’t help but smile bashfully, running a hand over the back of his neck. Stiles wasn’t used to receiving a welcome like that…in fact, he never had before. His heart swelled with joy. When that many people are happy to see you, you just can’t help but feel utterly and positively loved.

In Stiles’ case, he hoped beyond hope that maybe he wasn’t as alone as he thought he was, that he could be happy and laugh and have fun again. With that thought, his posture straightened and relaxed, and he ran over to the field.

As expected, it was still pretty awkward being around Scott, so Stiles stood next to Lydia instead. Apparently, the awkwardness was one-sided because all Stiles did was avoid any contact with his best friend, and Scott wouldn’t stop trying to catch his eye, smiling small and hopeful at him.

Derek was watching the interaction with mild interest, Cora chatting up Brian to his left and Danielle ogling him on his right. He clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention as soon as Stiles joined the line of players. 28 pairs of eyes turned to look at the irresistibly handsome man right away. Even if he wasn’t an alpha to the humans, he still seemed to gain obedience no matter what.

“Alright, we’re splitting up into two teams, 7 on each side. Aidan, Cora, you’re with me. Scott, Isaac, and Ethan, you’re on a team. Everyone else count off by 1-2-1-2.”

Stiles, Allison, Danielle, and Brian were on a Derek’s team, and Lydia, Danny, Greenberg, and Heather were on Scott’s team. The captains, Derek and Scott, of course, stood close to each other and shook hands, competitiveness visible in their stance and low growls emanating from their throats (low enough for only the other werewolves to hear though). The sun was high in the sky and cast their shadows a short ways behind them.

They began the game with ease, taking up the field, catching touchdowns and throwing ridiculous amounts of laterals. Scott was quarterback mainly, Isaac running back, for most of the time. Derek and Cora did the same, leaving the twins to have some fun playing defense against each other where no one could really see their reflexes. Sometimes each werewolf rotated positions for a change of pace.

Later into the game, Lydia was up to punt. She had dressed appropriately, but of course in style for the occasion. Her All Star sneakers were bright yellow with green strings, her jean shorts hugged her hips but left ample room for leg movement, and her dark green shirt bared her midriff, letting a breeze flow through her top. She surprisingly wasn’t bad at football. She glanced at Stiles every once in a while, who raised his eyebrows and smirked when she did something impressive. He was still the only one who had ever called her out on being a genius, and really really good at a lot of things, and she found that she actually liked having that little secret connection with him, so she kept it that way.

So when Ethan came running towards her faster than a bat outta hell, no one was expecting that she’d kick the ball, let alone make a 40 yard field goal without batting an eye at his rush. Everyone whooped and cheered for her when she made goal, even the other team. She smiled and did a twirl happily.

It was Scott’s turn to play some defense, but instead he switched places with Danny to cover Allison. She had been gaining yards each down for her team, and someone needed to stop her. Allison smirked at him across the defensive line in front of her, knowing that he was here to put an end to her fun. He glanced at Stiles, next to Allison, but his eyes were focused, looking straight ahead at the field posts.

“Set...HUT” Derek yelled.

The team took off, Derek keeping an eye on Stiles and Cora, who seemed to be his two best wide receivers. He watched Stiles fake to the right, wide open, Cora heavily covered by Greenberg. Derek growled quietly, considering throwing the football at the big oaf’s head, but since he was running out of time and wanted to win, he threw the ball to Stiles. His cover, Heather, had lost energy a long while back and was just jogging after him.  
Stiles yipped in success as the ball came soaring towards him. It was the perfect spiral.

As Stiles was about to catch it, Allison veered into his path of travel giggling wildly, Scott chasing after her. Stiles desperately tried to avoid getting hit and still stay in line with the incoming missile at the same time. It didn’t work. Stiles had over-judged the distance the ball was going. As he realized his mistake, Scott ran around Allison and turned around for an interception right in front of him! Scott almost tripped on his feet trying to change direction, towards his end of the field. He slipped up, only a little, and Allison took the opportunity to jump on his back, trying to slow him down. 

Scott piggybacked her back towards his goalpost, trying to maintain a human speed. Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t good at pretending to be a fast human without werewolf speed, and ended up being too slow instead. Allison giggled on his back, hugging him tight with her legs and arms.

Stiles, out of breath and slightly put off, switched gears and caught up to him in a few strides. Scott had successfully thrown Allison off of him in another fit of giggles, but Stiles followed closely after him. He leapt forward and snagged Scott by the waist. 

“Oh shit!” and “GOTCHA” we heard at the same time.

They both fell laughing to the ground. Stiles had let go of Scott as they were falling, so they tumbled over each a few times, legs getting all mixed up in each other, momentum carrying Scott on top and coincidentally pushing Stiles into the ground.

He huffed out, breath slightly knocked out of him but still laughing, “Scott you mangy wolf, get off of me man.” He looked down to see his friend‘s face nose to ‘nose’ with his belly button, shirt slightly rucked up underneath the fall. His eyes were weird and distant, it seemed, and the smile on Stiles’ face disappeared. Scott whispered something almost too quietly for Stiles to hear, but Stiles could still only make out a few syllables. He felt a warm long breath on his stomach and heard another deep inhale. The others were making their way towards them, smiles on their faces and laughing.

“Dude, Scott get off me…” Scott’s hands on his sides clenched tighter in his pudge (yes, and they were pudgier than last week, Stiles was paying attention to every macro detail that changed on his body), and Scott breathed out again. His hands loosened and instead pulled Stiles’ shirt down to cover the stomach that seemed bigger than last time. Scott looked up and smiled tightly at his friend, and got off. Scott held out a hand, as Stiles laid there, hyper aware of his friends slowly closing distance and sucking in his very present stomach.

Stiles glanced over at Scott who was still holding out his hand. As he reached up to grab it, he watched Scott. His eyes darted to Stiles’ belly as his body scrunched up to reach for the proffered hand, and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down dramatically. 

Scott tore his eyes away again, seemingly trying to refocus on his best friend’s face. He smiled tightly again, less strained but sincere. “We need to talk.” He said quietly to Stiles, and his eyes shifted to the pack that was upon them, changing in fondness.

Stiles stared at Scott still, until Derek cleared his throat at him. He was staring at Stiles, eyes seeming to want to pierce Stiles’ mind. Stiles couldn’t figure out why. He snapped back to attention as Isaac called out, “Well that was fun and all, but I’m done for the day guys, I gotta go to work soon.” He waved and started heading towards the vehicles. There were multiple “Yea me too”s and “We should do it again”s around the group, and they all trickled away after saying their goodbyes. All that were left: Scott, Derek, Stiles and Allison, stayed huddled in a circle together. The four o’clock sun was lower in the sky, and Scott spoke, “I’d say that was a successful pack bonding and training session.”

Derek nodded his head in agreement. “They all did really well controlling their senses and reflexes.” He turned to look at Scott though, “You need some work with your speed though.” He looked pointedly at Stiles, who shook his head wildly.

“What did I do?!” He asked with reproach.

“You caught him,” Derek said bluntly. He watched Stiles’ defenses deflate when he realized he wasn’t the one at fault, that Scott was. Stiles smirked a little at Scott, who took turns scowling at Derek and Stiles, then kind of glared at the ground for a little bit, but eventually nodded and accepted that Derek was right. “Can we do this again? I can’t exactly practice this with no one.”

“Yeah, we’ll do another one in a few days. I want you to be used to it by the time you start the school year. You had too many slip ups last year,” Derek responded sternly.

Scott glanced down and back up, head tilted and hand in his hair, “Yeah I know, I’ll be better.”

Derek nodded once in affirmation towards Scott, glanced at Stiles, turned and stalked towards his vehicle. Allison spoke up softly, “He...” she pursed her lips “He’s really…” she stopped trying to put it into words and shut her mouth.

Stiles finished her sentence with a few choice words of his own, “broody, sarcastic, bossy, always scowling, ripped like the hulk and just as angry? Any of those work for ya?” Stiles didn’t mention the sexiness. That should have been a given.

A rock went whizzing past his face, and he fell backwards with surprise. “He says he heard that, and you better watch it fudgeball.” Scott smirked at him, glee in his eyes.

“YOU HAVE TERRIBLE AIM!” He yelled back to Derek, ignoring the fudgeball comment since Allison was standing right there. Derek flipped him off as he drove away, a small smile on his face.

“Well Scott, we better get going too, we have that thing tonight.” Allison turned to him, smiling.

Scott glanced at Stiles, and for a moment Stiles thought he was going to be invited over too. Finally, a night to catch up with both of them! Allison had become a good friend, and he missed her and Scott and even seeing them together. Stiles smiled brightly at him.

“I guess I’ll see you later bro.”

He tried, so hard, to not let his face fall. He tried to keep his smile up. His heart gave a dull thud thud thud in his chest, and felt so much heavier than his body could help.

Allison was already walking towards the vehicle, so she didn’t see the stutter in Stile’s facial expression, or hear the weird thudding of his heart like Scott could.

Scott cocked his head at the sound, confusion spreading over his face. He was about to ask what was wrong before Allison called out to him, “Scott, come on!” 

Like a dog to its master, he turned slowly away from Stiles, and headed towards Allison without a second glance.

“Yeah, see ya.” Scott heard Stiles whisper before he got in the passenger side. It sounded thick, full of emotion. He paused for a moment, and looked at his friend still standing in the field. He had to squint at the sun blaring into his sensitive eyes from above  
Stiles. The wind picked up, and pushed into his face. A salty, wet smell hit him before Allison nudged him and tugged him into the car.

Scott drove away with his girl, leaving behind his best friend, leaving him alone, leaving him dejected, and weak, and hurtling to the bottom of a big black pit with no air to breathe and no way of getting out.


	6. Chapter 6

Derek was waiting on Stiles’ bed when he got home. He was perched easily on the corner, hands folded in his lap patiently waiting. Stiles had walked into his bedroom with an armful of grocery store goodies and a Kleenex box. Derek, obviously, saw him first, and heard him sniffling coming up the stairs, and his tear stained cheeks, and the bags of junk food.

“Are you having a party without inviting me?” he said as the lights flicked on.

He had to hide his smirk as Stiles’ arms flew into the air over his head and his body took a dramatic lurch to the side and back. Food bags fell from his arms into the air as he almost screamed, “Jesus CHRIST ohmydearlord…” he slouched forward, energy expended at the outburst and surprise.

“I didn’t know you were religious.”

“Fuck off Derek I’m not in the mood. Get out.”

“Now that’s no way to talk to someone.”

“Dear Mister Sourwolf, please vacate the premises immediately, you are needed in other places.”

“No.”

Stiles rolled his eyes dramatically, which means he rolled his whole body. He knew it was futile now to try and make the werewolf leave. Stiles accepted the fact with an even deeper slouch. He didn’t want Derek to know he planned on eating his feelings away tonight, so he kinda just set the bag of-not-thrown-everywhere food outside his door….even though it didn’t make sense as to why…and shut the door behind him awkwardly. He picked up the few things on the floor and threw them onto the bed. He made eye contact with Derek, who had a very intense stare on him right now, and Stiles turned away quickly. He probably stank or had a bunch of dirt on his face still from football earlier or something…but he had a feeling it was something else…

Stiles knew he had gained weight again, since the attack from the Omega, because there were new stretchmarks where there had been healed marks (from the practically 24 hours of healy magical powers of his sapiolupine friends). So he wasn’t exactly inclined to change out of his nasty sweaty dirty clothes with the All-Star of Abs around. But he also didn’t want to seem weird and go to the bathroom to change clothes. In his own house. He walked over to his dresser, trying to hide his internal debate, trying not to glance at the very saucy man still staring at him like a hawk. Or a wolf watching its sheep…whatever.

Ok. He’d just deal with the snide comments later. Stiles stripped, trying to retain a normal, average speed. His hands shook a little when he felt the seam of his shirt catch on the little overhang he was steadily obtaining, just a slight curve that touched the tip of his belt buckle. He felt it jiggle slightly and settle again. He thought he heard a small choking sound behind him but he wasn’t sure…even so, that small jiggle that he felt reach around his waist was enough to make him stumble over his hands reaching for a new shirt and putting it on.

He turned around with a huff, regarding Derek shortly who was looking at the floor with a weird look in his eye. “Well since you’re not leaving…I’m gonna put a movie in. You care what it is?”

Derek shook his head.

Stiles nodded once, grabbed White Chicks and slapped his body down with a whump next to Derek’s legs on the floor by the foot of his bed.

“Did you have fun today?”

Stiles didn’t need to think twice about answering, no matter how spiteful he was towards his friends, especially Scott, right now, “Yea,” he smiled, looking down at his folded hands, “I had a blast. It was great to see everyone…” his smile drained away as he remembered watching everyone leave without him.

Derek heard the drop in his voice but decided to not comment on it. Instead, “Do you hurt anywhere? I know you got hit a few times by some werewolf or another.”

Immediately, Stiles’ memory took him to both times with Scott, simultaneously; tackling Scott on the field, and he landing on top, and Scott asking almost the same question after the night with the Omega and the weird results at the end of the visit. A shock of heat shook his body, remembering the feel of Scott’s tongue on his belly. Uncanny timing, always reliable isn't it?

He shooed the memory away quickly, before, he hoped, Derek would catch the scent. “Uhh no, I’m good.” Stiles stuttered quickly.

“…what happened,” Derek asked sternly. He had heard Stiles’ heartbeat quicken during the short pause before he answered.

“What happened when.”

“Whatever you were just thinking about made your heart speed up, even though you told the truth, so of course something happened. Tell me what.”

“Uhm…nothing?” Stiles’ didn’t even know why he tried avoiding it when the man could hear his fricken lie straight through.

“Stiles,” Derek said sternly.

Stiles huffed out a breath. He watched the movie for a moment, before letting it rush out all at once. “First time I woke up at home after you brought me back and saved me from the Omega, Scott came over and asked that same question if I was hurting anywhere and duh of course I was and he proceeded to give me a back massage and then it turned into a front massage and everything was fine until he stuck his tongue and fingers and face in my stomach and then took off without a word and it was all very strange and I don’t want it to happen again.”

“Liar.” Derek could smell the arousal hidden under the layer of embarrassment on him, talking about what Scott did to his stomach, and the flutter in his heartbeat as he said ‘I don’t want.’

“What?! No, that was the entire truth! Even call Scott and ask him if that’s what happened!”

“The story is true. You’re feelings toward it is a lie.”

Stiles almost said no back, but it wouldn’t have mattered because Derek would have been able to hear the lie, so he was fine with not saying anything. The blush on Stiles’ face deepened even more.

It was true. Stiles wanted it to happen again. And more. He just couldn’t think about it right now, seeing as how Mr. Big Nose over there could smell and hear everything he was feeling pretty much. So instead he focused on the movie.

Derek shifted above him, and placed his tookus on the floor next to Stiles. He glanced at Derek out of the corner of his eye, who was staring intent on the TV screen. Derek didn’t say anything.

Derek reached for the bag nearest him, Doritos cooler ranch, opened it and grabbed a handful. He offered the bag to Stiles. They both zoned in to the movie, or at least Stiles did. Derek laughed when he was supposed to laugh, replied when Stiles spoke to him, but he was more focused on putting food in Stiles’ waiting hands. If his hand was empty, it would gravitate towards his middle and shield it, like Stiles was aware of Derek looking at it (even though he wasn’t…most of the time, anyway). Derek would try to stop him from doing it each time by putting more food in his hand, because it kept Derek from touching and feeding Stiles himself. So when the Doritos was empty, and the rice crispies were gone, Derek got up to go to the bag of treats that Stiles had hastily put back out the door into the hallway.

Stiles was getting really tired by that point. The movie was almost over and his stomach was nearing fullness. His eyes drooped steadily, and his laughs were becoming quieter towards end credits of the movie, his attention span decreasing with each passing minute. Food-filled belly, lots of exercise, and excess of sun works great on tiring out a kid with ADHD.

When Derek came back with the bag, taking out the Oreos and sitting down in his spot again, Stiles made grabby hands at it tiredly. Derek pulled them away, out of his reach, smirk starting. Stiles pouted and reached for them again, “Come on Der, give them to me, I’m a growing boy, you know.”

“Pfft, I’d say.” Derek said jokingly, holding them further out of his reach.

Stiles glared at him. He made a jump from his half kneeling position towards the Oreos, and it took Derek by surprise that he didn’t think to just lean back and let Stiles fall on his lap. Instead, Stiles landed on top of him and yanked the Oreos out of his hand. Stiles rolled off of a crushed Derek triumphantly, smile bursting his face in two. 

“Christ Stiles, lose some weight,” Derek wheezed out jokingly. He said it as he glared at Stiles’ shirt rucked up above his belly button. From Derek’s position on the ground, Stiles’ belly hung enough to cover his belt as he leaned back into a sitting position. 

Stiles hurriedly pushed it back down, “Not all of us can be Greek gods chiseled out of marble Derek,” he said, trying to hide the effect the jab had on him. He’s cheeks were stained a little pink, but for all he thought Derek knew, that could have been from exerting energy to get Oreos.

Derek rolled onto his side to face Stiles, “That was a joke, Stiles, I didn't mean it.” His face was open and his eyes said he was sorry.

Stiles nodded twice and scooted back over to the bed, no longer tired. He opened up the Oreos with a sigh. A few minutes later, Stiles ventured “Derek?” He had been silent for some time, which led Derek to believe he had been thinking about something pretty important. It was just a matter of time before Stiles would speak up again.

“Hmm?” Derek’s eyes were on the movie credits. He was still lounging on his side.

“…do I really need to lose weight?”

Derek tried not looking at Stiles. Out of his peripherals, he could Stiles lifting up his shirt slightly, peering at the bit of flesh hanging over his pants, and pull it back down again. Now was definitely not the time to be the rude and sarcastic Derek everyone knew.

“No.”

“Why though? I’ve kinda gained a lot….” Stiles always prodded for reasons. Derek really should have expected that coming. 

“Stiles. No.”

“…no what?”

Silence responded.

“Derek?”

Again, no reply. Derek was staring straight ahead at the fuzzy TV screen, movie ended.

“Derek.” Stiles moved into his vision.

“Seriously dude, if you don’t answer me, I’ll start drawing on your face, because this is kind of a serious thing we’re talking about here.” He reached for a marker on his desk and uncapped it. Derek glared at him. The marker inched forward slowly, taunting Derek into answering. Stiles face seemed to tilt forward and sideways, in what was supposed to be inquiring ways.

“You don’t need to lose any weight…because I said so!” Derek spluttered quickly.

What the hell. Derek doesn’t splutter. Derek never spluttered ever. What the fuck.

Stiles’ arm shot out and drew a line down his face before Derek could stop him. Derek launched himself at Stiles and grabbed the arm holding the marker, growling. His legs pinned him down, and his other hand trapped Stiles’ arm to his side. 

“You don’t need to lose weight because you look fine, it hasn’t impaired your ability to run, or to help the pack, it doesn’t inhibit any of your attributes and it doesn’t stop you from being you, and you look great and that’s what the pack needs. You. You, exactly as you are. So no, you don’t need to lose weight and-,“ Derek had been about to say, ‘and if you do, I’ll just make you gain it back and probably more’ but he stopped his sentence. Stiles wouldn’t want to hear that.

Stiles was a bit dumbstruck at so many words coming out of wolfman’s mouth, and stopped struggling. “Oh my god you’ve read a dictionary before.”

Derek growled again and slowly sunk his head into Stiles’ personal space, “Stiles…I just gave you multiple compliments and you decide that an insult is the proper response?” Derek bared his teeth and swiftly got off of the boy.

Stiles kind of just stared at him, as Derek stared back. He was speechless, again, and guilty for his rude reply. He normally didn’t respond well to compliments anyway, but Derek seemed really upset by this. ‘Well duh….Derek doesn’t normally say anything nice about anyone to anyone…’ he chided himself.

“I’m sorry, Der…."

Derek looked away and scowled at the floor.

"...thank you,” Stiles looked at him imploringly. 

“Keh.” Derek turned around to leave, still burnt by the insult. The boy looking up at him really did look sorry, but even so, it was not often Derek gave compliments, and when he did, he felt they deserved enough attention to warrant the common courtesial answers. He wasn’t too wounded by it to not say, “I’ll be back again tomorrow,” before jumping out the window into the night.

Stiles got up and groaned in annoyance as he swept his hand through his hair and down to the nape of his neck. “Why in the hell do I keep doing this to myself? No wonder no one likes coming around anymore. It’s like I’m a bug zapper or a friend zapper…or a wolf zapper….or something.” He said it with a nonchalant air, but the words really struck him. Yea, no wonder no one liked coming here…

Things had gone so well today, Stiles felt like he had finally been getting back into the swing of things, but as it turns out, there was still a lot wrong with him...and obviously, food was the only thing that didn’t make him feel bad. So he helped himself to the snacks, surrounding himself with fatty foods and heavy liquids. 

Another night ended with the box of Oreos, Nilla Wafers, and a milk jug emptied of their contents sitting next to his bed. 

Tonight though, he couldn’t just let sleep take him in his food coma. He was too full to let anything settle on his side, his back or his front (obviously). The strain on his skin was so tight, and he groaned with each movement he made. Nothing was comfortable, and Stiles struggled for a long time to actually find a comfortable position.

The moonlight shone brightly though his window, illuminating the bulging globe of his middle. The lights were off, and the only clothing he had kept on was his pants. Stiles was definitely regretting that decision now. He moaned slightly, legs slowly fidgeting, as his hands tried and failed to alleviate the pain he was feeling. His shirt had been tossed off to the side when he ended up spilling a bunch of milk on it half way through his binge. 

His skin was amazingly sensitive right now, and the slightest poke set his nerves on fire, like a title wave in the ocean. So you can imagine how he felt when he slid his fingers from the waist of his pants up to his belly button, like God was parting the fucking red sea of sensitive nerves in his belly. If he had been numb, this would have been a lot more fun to do. Next time, alcohol was not an option, but a necessity, he decided.

Wait. Since when did he decide on bloating himself like a pig more often? Or ever?

He raked his fingers gingerly across his skin again. It felt like hot trails of lava were burning in their wake, less pain this time and more warm tingling. His breath hitched...hold on there, Stiles.

The image of what he looked like right now: a swollen, taut belly rising up into the air with his hands pressing gently into the sides, turned into a heavy, round gut. A constant flow of delectable treats introduced itself, and it was being shoved down his gullet, making him grow bigger, made his stomach strain harder and rise higher into the air, made the button on his pants fly off and suddenly. Relief. A release so welcome he felt the need to celebrate with more food. If he had more food, then he could feel fuller, and if he could feel fuller, then he could be bigger.

And suddenly, the image was replaced by an aching need in his lower abdomen, like a flood of lightning. Stiles could not only feel the pressure his pants put on his sides and stomach, but also the pressure his cock was putting on his pants.

Bigger.

That had set him off? Really? The imagery and thought of gaining weight, being stuffed to the brim, that’s seriously what turned him on? Getting fatter...? Another flood of heat hit him as if in reply, saying yes.

Oh dear lord. ‘Stiles,’ he thought, ‘what in the absolute hell is going on with you.’ As if he didn’t need any more things to worry about, now he had this weird belly kink thing going on?! What the actual fuck, how much more weird could he get?! Stiles had always explored his sexuality, experimenting with the many things that could possibly turn people on, learning through his own touch and sight what he liked and didn't like, but this was certainly new. Very new. Stiles couldn’t think of a time he was as turned on as much as he was now.

Sleep deprived as he was, Stiles concluded he could ignore his hard-on for tonight and just try to fall asleep. He’d do some exploring tomorrow.

Stiles turned on his side and groaned slightly into his pillow. His belly was feeling less tight, and an ache he didn’t know had disappeared, reappeared as his stomach slowly started feeling looser. He groaned again, quieter this time. He laid a hand on his belly, feeling the sounds it wasn’t making loud enough, and fell asleep.

Later in the night, he groggily woke up to see his window open. He felt warm, calloused, large hands massaging his stomach. It soothed Stiles back to sleep, but right before he fell asleep, he thought he heard a whisper in his ear, but couldn’t make out the words. He wasn’t sure when he woke up the next day whether the hands or the words were real or not…and if they were real, who they belonged to. Hopefully it was a dream, because goddamn that would be creepy if it was someone real....


	7. Revelations of Sorts

As Derek promised, he showed up the next day. Actually, he showed up before Stiles even woke up. He sat up in his bed to see a hot plate of waffles, still steaming and smothered in syrup and butter with a glass of milk sitting next to it, sitting on his bedside table. He looked around his room; it all still looked the same, nothing was tidied up, there was no sign anyone had been in his room. Stiles concluded it could only be three possible things, 1) his dad was getting better at being stealthy and stopped picking up Stiles’ room like a mother, 2) Stiles was sleep-making food, 3) there was a ghost in his house haunting him via delicious food. It did not occur to him that maybe, just maybe a werewolf came by and made him breakfast. I mean, it’s not like they ever showed up randomly at his house before right? Right. 

Derek walked into Stiles’ room a moment later, a mug of coffee in hand. Stiles just stared at him like he couldn’t believe he was real, rubbing his eyes and blinking at him rapidly. 

Derek sat down in the desk chair, crossed his legs and sipped slowly at his coffee. For a full ten minutes there was just silence. Derek actually enjoyed it quite a bit. He could hear the birds chirping happily outside the window, hear the wind rustling the leaves in the birch trees, the smell of the coffee keeping hot downstairs wafting in through the air vents to mix with Stiles’ earthy smell, and the sight of a groggy Stiles with quite the bed-head. He smiled into his coffee as he lifted it to his face, letting the steam wash through his skin. 

He would never admit it, but he sometimes wished he could wake up like this every morning. The smell of Stiles surrounding him, the sound of more nature and less humanity around him, the sight of trees looming gracefully in the backyard. To be surrounded by nature and have no one else around but the boy who annoyed him most. 

Derek couldn’t help but crack another smile at the thought. He never, or at least very often, thought of his future, and when he did, it always seemed to include Stiles. It had bothered Derek at first, but eventually he just accepted it. He may not like the feelings he had for the boy, but he accepted them. 

“So you gonna eat your breakfast before it gets too cold, or what?” Derek asked in a quiet voice. He never liked disturbing the morning air, he liked to let it do the talking, but he had spent a while trying to make those waffles (it had been so long since he had cooked) and really hoped they were good. 

Stiles glanced at the waffles, back at Derek, and then back to the waffles. He grabbed the plate and took a bite. By god these are the worst waffles he’s ever had….But he forged through, eating as quickly as possible, washing the taste away with milk. He was intelligent enough to know the difference between store-bought waffles and homemade waffles, and these had waaayyyyy too much flour in them, and it left a weird crusty dirty taste in his throat. 

Derek had pulled out a book, glancing up at Stiles every once in a while, not really focusing on what the book said. He could practically hear the distaste on Stiles’ tongue. He tried to hide his scowl, knowing Stiles had tried to pretend like it was good. 

But Stiles saw it. He was touched by the sentiment, truly, and tried really hard to not hide it. “You’ll just have to try again Sourwolf.” He smiled at Derek, genuine and thankful. Derek had been nice enough to make him food, and he bit back the automatic remark about how terribly the waffles tasted and that Derek should never touch a stove again. He tried real hard to not say that. 

Derek peeked over his book at Stiles, who had his hands folding across his lap, plate set aside. He harrumphed in response and got up to grab the plate to bring it downstairs. 

When he returned minutes later, Stiles was already in the shower, washing off the dirt and sweat from the day before and the syrup and cookies from the food he had eaten last night and this morning. It was still early in the morning, about 7:00, and Derek was surprised Stiles hadn’t tried at all to continue sleeping at least a few more hours.

Stiles came in rubbing his head with his towel, fully clothed in his normal plaid shirt and some baggy cargo shorts about ten minutes later. “So why are you here so early?” In the shower, Stiles had thought really hard, trying not to be hopeful that the reason Derek was here was to just hang out. 

“We have a lot of research to do,” Derek replied shortly.

“So you fed me because…”

“I need you to have energy and be awake.”

“Right. So what exactly are we researching?”

“I’ll tell you in a bit.” Derek put his empty mug down, placed his bookmark in his book, and stood up next to Stiles. He nodded towards the door with his chin and walked out of it. 

Stiles only assumed he was supposed to follow. For some reason, he had plenty of patience for the werewolf today, and not a whole lot of wit in reserve. 

He draped his towel across his chair so it could dry and followed out the door. As he plodded downstairs, Derek was half turned towards him with the front door open, bathed in sunlight. Man, he always seemed to look like a God no matter what. 

They walked out the door together, and as Stiles was about to walk to his jeep, Derek pulled at him, shaking his head no. He let Stiles’ arm go and they walked to the side of the house. Derek took off into the woods when they reached the tree line, and Stiles followed suit. Why? He didn’t really know, but if he could stare at that fine ass then he was all for it. Bring on the sweat!

Half an hour later, Stiles regretted that thought. As Derek turned near a tree and headed for the cliff ridge, Stiles skidded to a stop, heaving air into and out of his lungs. Derek didn’t wait up for him, so he urged himself onward until he reached the cliff and huffed and puffed next to Derek. His breathing was slightly heavy, but it was through his nose and he didn’t seem winded at all. 

Derek had tested Stiles, to really make sure he could still his job, that the pack could still depend on him. Stiles had passed, just barely. He had kept up with Derek’s steady pace, they had made it 5 miles without stopping and without preparation. Good. Stamina, endurance, and speed were still decent enough to survive. He wasn’t going to tell Stiles that, but it had needed to be done. 

They stared out at the scenery below the cliff for a while, waiting for Stiles to catch his breath. It really was a beautiful place, Beacon Hills. The green trees waved brilliantly in the wind and sunlight, shades of green and silver and white changing with each rush of wind. Chickadees flitted from tree to tree, singing their name to each other. Chipmunks ruffled up the leaves and plants near the tree line collecting food and jumping on each other. A woodpecker pounded into a tree in the distance, the constant rad-ad-ad-ad-ad-ad-a echoing between the trees. 

“It’s beautiful,” Stiles whispers. “To be honest I never really just stop and take it all in. I’m always moving, always talking…but I never remember to take the time to watch, to listen, to smell…to really see the world around me.” His gaze turned to the sky. The clouds were puffy and white, sparse in the sky. The sun was rising slowly in the sky. It was only nearing 8:30 am or something, Stiles guessed. “I should do this more often. Appreciate the things around me, and-“

“Stiles, be quiet.” There was no anger or annoyance in Derek’s voice. It was a subtle command, to let Stiles know he was doing exactly the opposite of what he was saying. Stiles took it in with a small smile, glancing at the ground a moment before looking back out over the beauty of the world around him. He heard Derek move next to him, and followed his sounds back into the woods. They were headed towards the Hale Manor, he guessed after a small distance. The shape of the land was starting to look familiar, in fact Stiles thought he tripped over that root they just passed at some point in the past…

They reached the house in another half hour, walking slowly and enjoying the woods. 

Derek wasn’t living in the loft anymore, he had moved back to the house and let Peter take the loft. He recently had just started renovating and stabilizing a room that was out of the way of peering eyes in the basement. It served as a kitchen and a bedroom, definitely not for entertaining the pack or guests. He led Stiles down anyway.  
Derek showed him the way inside, a tricky thing to figure out, and held up the beam and pieces of wood blocking his door to allow Stiles access. 

“This is the first time anyone but me has been in here.” Derek said apprehensively.

Stiles was quite impressed, even if it still did need some work. 

“It’s looking good, Der,” Stiles approved with a wide grin directed towards the wolfman. 

Derek smiled slightly, running his hand up the back of his neck. “I still need to fix up the bedroom, but the plumbing is ready for use in the kitchen, and the electricity is being borrowed from a nearby power line that I redirected underground rather than connecting to the house above ground. Harder to trace.” He rambled a little bit, which Stiles thought was a little endearing. 

“So you like this kinda stuff?”

“Yea, my mother’s brother was a carpenter, and his best friend was an engineer. Useful, huh?” Derek smiled sideways at Stiles, slightly wary of sharing his past with someone. He just wasn’t used to it. He’d rather keep his past out of the limelight. But with Stiles, he felt like he needed to share the information, like he needed to give an explanation rather than just a confirmation. 

“I know a few things about electrical wiring. I took a shop class for a semester on it. If you need any help, I could maybe…?” Stiles offered sheepishly. He, like Derek, felt the weird need to provide help and information. If the offer was up on the table, maybe it meant he’d have something to do rather than sulk and eat alone up in his room? His dad would certainly be happy with him getting out of the house more. 

“That’s not nec-uh…that’d be really helpful. Thank you.”

There’s no way Stiles could have not heard the slip, and even if he did, he just smiled a big smile and nodded at Derek as if he didn’t notice. All Derek was going to say was ‘that’s not necessary, you don’t have to’, but he knew what was going on with Stiles right now, and knew the Stiles would have taken it as a dismissal. Stiles needed this right now, he needed a distraction and something to do with his time and someone to act like they cared. But it wasn’t an act, Derek really did like having Stiles around (when he wasn’t being a total idiot snarky smartass jackhole of a human). He wanted to help Stiles, because he knew what the boy was going through. The only thing stopping Derek from doing more than just giving him such a small purpose was the fact that he didn’t want Stiles to get hurt. It was just that everyone Derek had ever known was either dead or severely wounded in one way or another. He tried to keep his distance and not get close to anyone for those exact reasons, and Stiles was no different, no exception. 

“We can discuss this later though, Stiles. There are other things we need to be worried about.” Derek’s face became serious, and Stiles didn’t make a joke like he normally would. 

“The Omegas that came here before; the one that I ripped apart and the one that you caught and Scott scared off? Turns out they were part of a pack after all. They were brothers, sent out to scout ahead for their Alpha, who I’ve just met the other day. The day before our football game actually. She uhm…she let the surviving Omega loose from their pack, but she’s also forcing him to stay in our territory. She’s trying to taunt us, lure us into a battle by keeping a foreigner on our territory. The longer he stays, the harder it gets for me more than the others to prevent ourselves from running him off, or killing him. It’s only because I’m born werewolf that the instinct to drive him out is so strong and hard to control. The point is if we go and push him out, she’ll ambush us with her pack. We could probably take them, but it’s an unnecessary battle.”

“So…that’s where I come in?”

“Right. We can’t have him be killed or wounded, so Allison, Scott, and Isaac won’t do. It’s gotta be someone who won’t cause any harm but can push him out all the same. When he’s out, their Alpha will give up on trying to lure us out, because she’s got no way in anymore. She’s a stupid Alpha anyway, collecting Omegas. It’s not a strong pack at all, they cowered behind her when we met.”

“Strength in numbers maybe?”

“Ya, well, the will to survive is stronger. They don’t have pack dynamic, there’s no loyalty and that means no family. Those Omegas would run away the first chance they got if their lives were in danger. That’s no wolf army. That’s a pack of rats.”

“Ok so how do we do this, and when?”

“Gotta get the others together and figure out the finer details of this plan. It’s going to have to happen soon, the wolf inside me is clawing to force the intruder out,” Derek growled out the sentence, eyes lowered and flashing red. His whole body was tense, stiff with contracted muscled. 

Stiles slowly put a hand on his arm, “We’ll take care of it. Soon.”

Derek took a calming breath, drawing from the hand on his arm. He visibly relaxed with little effort. 

“Come on, let’s go back to your house. We’ll need to go to Deaton’s for mountain ash, and then we’ll meet with the pack,” Derek decided after a few breaths.

\------------

The plan was simple. Just like the first time, Scott and Allison and Isaac would drive him to the edge of the woods, rather than the cliff this time. Stiles would create a long arc, resembling half a parabola, that the others would drive the Omega into, steering him to the outside of the territory. Derek would take over from there and scare the living hell out of the Omega, instilling in the yellow eyed werewolf to never come back to this area. Derek knew he could easily overpower the other Alpha’s hold over the Omega, but he would have to let out a lot of the true wolf inside of him to force the Omega and the other wolves to truly submit to his claims forever. His claim being that this was his territory and the Omega was to never cross paths with him or his own ever again. To make it everlasting, he needed less humanity and more lupine in him. It was tricky, to let that happen. He couldn’t control the wolf that well when his instincts were screaming so ferociously, even now it was slightly difficult.

The others had approved of the plan, hammering out the details and rehearsing what was going to happen between each other. No one wanted another incident like what happened to Stiles happen again. They all needed to stay protective of each other.

Stiles was starting to feel important again, having a purpose, planning something essential to the protection of his home, and being surrounded by his friends. He felt needed again. The smile never fell from his face the entire time they were huddled in his room around a notebook with a drawing of their plan of attack on it. Even when he noticed Scott stealing glances at his middle, and Derek glancing at Scott when Scott was glancing at Stiles’ middle, Stiles didn’t even bother giving it a second thought, he was just too happy to be part of something again. 

They broke apart within hours of dinner time, and Stiles enjoyed cooking a nice meal for his dad, who was home for once. 

Sheriff Stilinski was astounded to say the least about the change in his son’s behavior, and a little stunned at his slightly apparent weight gain. Nonetheless, he was a happy parent when he came home to Stiles poorly singing Bohemian Rhapsody and cooking up chicken dumplings very animatedly. He was grateful for the change in Stiles, and didn’t want to question what had caused it or how long it would last, so he just sat down with his happy son for dinner and ate with the jokes and laughter of Stilinski and Son ringing in his ears. They watched a True Grit until the credits, talking about how amazing John Wayne was, until the Sheriff decided he was deadbeat tired and went off to bed. 

Derek came over again that night with a box of Krispy Kremes, the long johns filled with white creamy stuff. He had two, and Stiles didn’t even realize he had eaten the entire box at all. He was too carefree to notice anyway; food was food and friends were hard to come by, so he paid more attention to making Derek laugh (which was quite the feat to accomplish) than how much he was eating. They watched some Seth Rogen movie, who Stiles absolutely loved, until Stiles was passed out on the floor from food coma, laying upside down facing the movie with a hand on his belly. His light snores alerted Derek to Stiles’ current situation. He snorted and picked the boy up and put him in bed, hands lingering on his body, and lingering even more slowly on the rise and fall of Stiles’ food-filled belly. 

Derek couldn’t help himself. He gave into his urges, only a little. Stiles was asleep anyway, so what did it matter? Derek braced himself over Stiles, massaging his gut lightly. The boy beneath him moaned slightly and licked his lips in his sleep. Derek let out a deep breath, easing his movements until he was able to lift his hands away and slip out the window. 

Stiles felt something shift beside him, later in the night, and something like a furnace shielded his back from the cold. He ignored it and went back to sleep, vaguely hearing, “You’re never alone, Stiles” carried off into the breath of morning. 

Derek was back the next day with more plans for the Omega, and more problems. He called the pack for a meeting again around 3 in the afternoon, to Stiles’ house. The Sheriff was home, so they informed him of the plans. He looked worriedly at his son, and simply said, “I trust you.” Stiles nodded and tried not to smile too big. 

\-------

“Ok, these shitheads are really getting on my nerves,” Scott announced.

It had been a whole two weeks since they had made their plan. After the initial plan-has-come-to-fruition-lets-act-on-it-now, when they had actually been ready to carry it out, no one with a werewolf nose was able to catch the Omega’s scent. Anywhere. They scouted the area for days, taking turns to run the boundary lines each morning and night. No luck. Three days later they found a hint of a scent, but it ran straight into a river, and then gone again for another three days, until Isaac found it on the opposite side of the Hale territory, where the Omega had apparently decided to eat up some raw rabbit and leave leftovers for the scavengers. And just as suddenly it disappeared again. 

Another 5 days passed after that before they caught a scent, again on the opposite side of the territory, but lost it just as quickly in the SAME DAMN RIVER and everyone was beyond frustrated at that point. 

The pack of Alphas had more wits than the Beacon Hills team had suspected at first. They were being smart about trying to take down a pack of stronger wolves by separating them and wearing them out, sending them on goose chases all over the Hale territory. Smart move. But that didn’t mean they were going to win. 

On the mark of day 14, the pack was completely fed up with each other and the opposing pack. It was just getting to ridiculous to want to continue with the stupid plan anymore. 

After the first few days of running in circles, Derek started coming to visit Stiles every night. He always had a big, sweet treat with him like bags of cookies and donuts, or greasy delicious foods like pizza and chips, and Stiles was more than happy to gobble them up. Someone was coming to see him, every night even, happy to spend time with him, and if food was offered, he’d eat it, to make his guest happy. It was only good manners to bring something to someone’s house, right? It was just habit now anyway, to eat when something tasty was in front of him. 

Derek certainly wasn’t complaining. 

Nearing the end of the two week Omega hiatus, Stiles was getting out of the shower. It was just about time for Derek to be showing up. But Stiles had been acutely aware of his body today, in the shower. He felt how much his legs and his stomach jiggled when he scrubbed himself, and when he looked down he was surprised to see pink stretchmarks lining his sides and his lower belly, as well as just the sight of his toes poking out from beneath his belly. That was new. Stiles felt his chest, which felt fleshier, and his ass felt a lot less toned than last time he had really inspected it. Out of pure curiosity, Stiles pulled out the scale and set it on the ground in front of his feet. 

Did he really want to do this? Was it necessary? 

Yea. No. 

He stepped onto the scale anyway. It paused for a moment, reading his weight. The numbers stopped at 193. 

Stiles did the math in his head. He did them again. That couldn’t really be right…

There was no way Stiles had really gained about 30 lbs. in a month and a half. No way. 

He was stunned. 

Stiles let his mouth hang open and towel loosely grip his waist as he shuffled into his bedroom and sat down on his bed. He hadn’t even dried off properly before lumbering into his room, so his hair dripped water down his back, onto his face. Streaks of water, he watched, ran down his body, slowing down before hitting the peaks of his drooping pecs and the highest slope of his belly before trundling down into his towel. 

He got up slowly and walked over to his dresser, pulling out a loose t-shirt. It immediately stuck to his body, but he didn’t care. He was 30 whole pounds heavier than a month and a half ago. What the hell did a wet shirt matter. 

And it was that mortifying moment in time that Derek decided to slide open the window, his back to the inside of the room, lugging his normal bag of goodies in through the window backwards. Stiles really wanted to say that the front door worked for werewolves too, be he really couldn’t find words at the moment. Derek hadn’t even noticed Stiles until he had all the groceries safely inside and turned towards the room.

Derek was not a graceful man at this point in time. His mouth dropped open a few miles and the bags slipped from his hands with a thud on the ground. 

“Uh…Sti…uhm….Stiles why-unhh-why are you so…wet?”


	8. Foundation

“Dhmm, because maybe…because....cause…” Stiles trailed off, eyes wide as his feet pranced over the floor, hands tangling in his hair. Stiles couldn’t make eye contact with Derek, and he wouldn’t stop fidgeting with the hem of his sopping wet shirt. His eyes darted to and fro, avoiding looking at anything near Derek. 

Derek snapped out of his ogling hearing the strain in Stiles’ voice. He rushed over to his friend, hands up defensively. “Stiles what’s wrong?” Derek still hadn’t touched Stiles, just held his arms up around him, half warding him off and half opening his arms to Stiles. Stiles didn’t respond, he just continued wringing his hands and bouncing from one foot to another. 

Derek waited patiently for a few beats before sliding out gently, “Stiles?”

“Derek…” Stiles paused his fidgeting and looked up at Derek, all doe eyes and frowny face. His lower lip trembled slightly. 

“Why didn’t you tell me...that…that I’m…” He gestured wildly at his torso, extremely aware of the left-over-momentum jiggle.

Derek looked at him with a cocked head, confusion evident. 

“Aw dude…don’t make me say it. Please don’t make me say it.” Stiles whined. 

Derek’s posture relaxed just slightly, now losing focus on the current and very pertinent subject of discussion in favor of a delicious -looking pot belly starting to grow on his friend, clinging to the jello-y mass of fat teasing him from a few feet away. It spasmed for a small amount of time every time Stiles had gestured about something, and made Derek’s dick twitch ever so slightly. 

“Derek…I’m getting…”

“No, Stiles. You are already. But it's not important.” Derek spoke over his hesitation. He tried to keep his thoughts and feelings neutral. Derek may have had a very large helping hand in causing the last spurt of growth, but he had thought Stiles had been well aware of what was happening to his body. Most of the time it seemed like he did, so Derek hadn’t said anything. 

Stiles visibly deflated in front of Derek. He folded in on himself and slowly sat in his desk chair. 

His hand gravitated toward his belly, which pooched out in front of him quite a few inches. It dropped centimeters away. Stiles sighed with eyes closed. “I’ve gained a lot of weight recently.”

It’s not like Stiles had been completely oblivious to how much he was eating. Every single night he went to bed with a painfully over-stuffed belly. He had been using sweets as his getaway for much longer than just this month and a half, and his inactivity before and during the weight gain obviously hadn’t helped much either. So that meant, Stiles reasoned, his metabolism dropped, he was no longer in shape, he didn’t go out other than to get food so his lethargy was a problem…which also could be the reason that no one ever wanted to come over, why no one wanted to hang out with him. He was unattractive, fat, and lazy. 

Stiles looked up at Derek who was slowly kneeling down to the level of the chair. Stiles could feel the tears burning near his eyes. He really didn’t want to break down in front of Derek, “Please leave.”

“Do you really want me to?” Derek now was the one looking up imploringly. He knew Stiles’ mental state wasn’t the greatest, but he had been working on it, and things had been getting so much better with each day Derek had come over to be with Stiles. He knew right now was a make or break moment. If he didn’t stay, regardless of whether Stiles wanted him to or not, then Stiles would fall so very deep into depression that Derek was unsure whether anyone would pull him out again. 

Stiles didn’t say anything, just took big steadying breaths through his nose. He didn’t move his head, or his eyes. His fingers gripped tighter around each other, fists forming.

Derek slowly raised his hand, like if he moved too fast Stiles would run away, and placed it on Stiles’ fist. “I’m not going anywhere, Stiles, even if you told me to.”

Derek was serious. Stiles glanced at him rapidly, willing the tears not to fall. He choked slightly on an inhale of breath. 

“I…I’m still-“

“I know Stiles. It doesn’t matter though.”

Stiles’ head snapped up quickly. “Yes it does! Look at me Derek!” He pulled up his shirt to show Derek the extent of his problems. The movement knocked Derek’s hand off of his. “I’m a fat lazy lard that no one wants to be around!”  
Derek tried very hard to continue looking Stiles in the eye. Which actually happened to be very difficult since he was eye level with Stiles’ belly button, clearly indented in the wet shirt. He allowed his gaze to drop once before flitting back up to Stiles’ manic face, audibly swallowing a groan. His hands floated to the arm rests and squeezed lightly before pulling his body and face up towards Stiles’. “Why am I here then?” He stood up fully, this time making Stiles’ face level with his stomach. 

“Because you’re a crazy stupid son of a bitch…” Stiles said without thinking, eyes staring holes into the shoes on Derek’s feet. 

“Excuse me?” Derek growled, low and menacing. Derek was used to Stiles calling him names and insulting him, but there was no humor behind that whatsoever. Stiles had said it in all seriousness. 

“Is that what you think, or are you just hiding behind it because you think you’re not worth the attention of your friends?” Derek lowered his face to Stiles’. It was definitely time to hash it out, so he called Stiles out without hesitation. 

Stiles’ head snapped up again, mouth dropping open and brows knit together. Derek wondered in the back of his mind whether or not his neck hurt from how much he’d done it already. 

“Yea I know what you’ve been going through Stiles. I’ve seen it since it started. Why do you think I decided to start coming over here for the past two weeks? You weren’t snapping out of it, and someone needed to take action. I actually started making you happy again, making you Stiles again! Are you really going to just ignore that and let a little weight gain ruin what you just started getting back? Are you really that weak?” Derek laid in on him hard. He hoped he wasn’t going overboard….

“It’s…it’s not a little weight gain…” he mumbled out. 

“I’m pretty sure it’s not as big of a deal as you’re making it out to be, Stiles. Knock it off and get over it.”

“Derek it’s thirty goddamn pounds! That's five pounds a week! It IS a big deal!” He stood up quickly, without thinking about how close Derek would be when he did. 

Derek felt Stiles’ stomach push against him as he rose from the chair. A hot wave of lust crashed into him, hearing the weight and the accumulation of said weight rub against him. 

“This is wh-“

“Stiles!” Derek gripped his forearms, not moving backwards to give Stiles personal space. Derek’s breathing was heavy, and his eyes bore holes into Stiles’ lips. He was so close to breaking his own rules. 

“No dude, it’s a big deal and this giant blob sitting on my waist is the representation of everything that’s been wrong with me! A growing mass of nothing that’s never done anyone any good, a big waste of space slowly wasting away in a wasteful life! Derek I can fucking grab this thing and half of it still can’t fit in my hand,” Stiles lifted up his shirt and grabbed it, disregarding the loose hands on his forearms. His stomach pooched forward and jiggled in hello at Derek, boosting his statement more. Stiles quieted down after looking at how true his statement really was, “This is out of control and I’m tired of trying to control it. There’s no use anymore.” His hands fell to his sides, but his shirt slid down only to below his belly button, still wet and sticking to his body.

Derek knew most of his statement alluded to his depression and his mental state. But he still couldn’t tear his eyes away from the belly between their bodies. He needed to console his friend...but the sight before him was too intriguing.  
“You don’t need to control it Stiles.” Derek’s hands let go of Stiles’ arms and swayed toward the bulge of his waist. 

Time to break the rules. 

“Stiles, you should never think of yourself as a waste of space, or not useful, or ugly, or lazy.”

“Why Derek. It’s all the truth.” Stiles sighed and looked down, degradation loud and clear in the quiet words. 

“You know what you are to me?” Derek’s voice matched the softness of Stiles’ voice. 

“Someone who gets in the way and always needs to be saved like the damn damsel in distress,” he huffed out. He was too resigned, to accustomed to this depression for Derek not to take more action.

“No, Stiles. You’re always there with helpful information that usually ends up saving us all. You’re the big bright ball of energy always bouncing off the walls, thriving off of purpose and good will, and the rest of us thrive off of you. You’re loyal and reliable and honorable, always ready for action and trying to do the right thing. You’re the most selfless one of us all, willing to do so much to protect the ones you care about. It doesn’t matter if fear is what you think keeps you going, because you’re fearless about the dangers you willingly put yourself in. To the people that surround you, you’re so much more than we deserve, and yet you give up so much for us. You’re only a human, but you act like…you’re a hero, Stiles, and you’ve saved us all as much as we’ve saved you.”

Stiles was silent. His eyes were wide and his throat moved up and down rapidly.

“You’re amazing Stiles. And…you look…” Derek glanced down at his little potbelly.

“The thirty pounds does you good. You look so good like this.” 

Stiles paused breathing a moment. He shook his head once, almost as if in denial, and gazed down at the curve of his belly. He was apprehensive as his hand cupped the flesh hanging off of his body and brought his shirt up to look down at it. Did he really…? 

Suddenly, Derek’s hands appeared in his field of vision and placed themselves on the spot where his overhang started, above his jeans slightly, pulling Stiles toward Derek.

“You are beautiful.” A hand left his waist and cupped his chin, pushing his face up. He stared with wide eyes at Derek. He looked solemn, and much closer than Stiles remembered him being. 

Derek’s hand slowly wrapped around to his back, at the same time as the other hand traced his jawline to cup his neck, at the same time as their lips met. 

The shock slowly faded away as his lips started moving more with Derek’s soft kisses. It was like kissing a marshmallow, so soft and sweet and full. Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek and pulled him closer still, moving faster and deeper with their kisses. Derek moaned into the kiss, feeling every part of the front of his body fill up with Stiles. His hands fisted into Stiles’ shirt, dryer from the time they spent talking. 

Derek broke the kiss to breath slightly, and to say, “You need to take this off before I rip it off,” he tugged at the shirt.  
Stiles scoffed slightly and chuckled. “Why, does it turn you on seeing my fat body in a tight wet shirt?”

“Yes,” Derek said quietly. 

True enough, Stiles could feel the vague bulge pushing into his leg. Derek may not have been very hard…but Stiles could fix that if he played his cards to his advantage. An idea occurred to him. 

“Sit down a sec please?” Stiles gently pushed away from Derek, who whined at the loss of contact. He allowed it regardless, and sat down on the edge of the bed. 

Stiles walked into the bathroom after sticking his head out his door to see if his dad was home or not. ‘Or not’ is what it was. He looked at himself in the mirror, arms braced against the sink. Maybe later Stiles could admit that the face he saw in the mirror was something people would want to look like…but for now he just wanted the sexiest man alive in his room to want him more. So, he poured a big glass of warm water, took a deep breath, and poured it slowly over his shirt. The water soaked in immediately, and he felt the shirt stick to his skin even more. He dumped the left over water, filled it up again, this time drinking it all in big gulps. 

When he got back into the room, Derek’s eyes widened dramatically, his Adam’s apple bobbing frantically. He stood just inside of the doorway.

“Still want to rip it off?” Stiles asked hesitantly. He looked down as his hand rested on the topmost curve of his stomach, and ran down the slope, fingers dipping into his belly button on accident. He was surprised to find it was a relatively deep hole, too. He smoothed down the sides of his shirt, encompassing the roundness from top to bottom. He walked forward a few steps, feeling it wobble with each step. An interesting feeling…he forced it to wobble again, slowly, with his hands pushing it from side to side. It made a curious S motion that ended with a small bounce up and down. 

“Yes,” came the rough, husky reply.

Suddenly Derek was at his side, moving behind him. He felt a nail dip underneath the shirt on his side and slice upwards. The shirt pulled up and out a bit before drooping back onto his form. This time, his belly snuck out from the hem of the shirt and showed itself to the world. Derek growled low and short in his ear. His hands caressed Stiles’ sides up, back down, and underneath his belly. He grabbed the flesh and squeezed. It was so soft and pliable, and there was so much. His head dropped to Stiles’ shoulder and he breathed out heavily. He kissed his way up Stiles’ neck, little pecks with lots of meaning, nibbled at his ear to make Stiles moan. He pulled back slowly, instead of continuing. 

“Stiles…”

“Yea?”

“I think I should go.”

Stiles wanted to ask why. He wanted to say ‘no, stay, please.’ He wanted to continue their little progression of affection. But he didn’t know what to say because none of it seemed like the right thing. 

“…ok.” Stiles stepped out of his reach and towards his computer, back kept towards Derek.

“Stiles.”

Stiles didn’t look at him.

“Stiles.” Derek said more sternly. 

“What Derek,” he turned slightly in his chair, his shirt hanging open up the slit Derek had made. 

“Your dad just got home. So chill. I’m not leaving because of this. I’m leaving for now because I’m pretty sure your dad would shoot me if he saw me kissing, unclothing, and groping his son.” 

“…I knew that. I knew that Derek, cause that makes a ton of sense and ya I don’t want you getting shot either, not that it would kill you, but you know it’d still hurt so yea get outta here I don’t want you getting shot by the Sheriff o-“

Derek cut off his rambling with a kiss. It was gentle and swift, but it shut Stiles up right quick. Derek pulled away with a smile on his face, “I’ll see you later tonight,” and he slipped out the window. 

That dazzling smile, surrounded by crinkly happy kind eyes and white teeth and round cheeks, the kind the pulls at your heart strings, the kind that makes everyone else smile when they see it. Derek had that kind of smile? Wow. And Stiles had been lucky enough to receive it. Stiles turned back to his computer with a dorky grin adorning his face and clicked onto YouTube to start ‘researching’ his physical conditions. Chubby chasers and belly kinks were definitely new to him.


	9. The sex is pretty good I guess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think I've made you wait long enough for this...it's finally a kind-of sex scene. Good luck.

Kandyco1. Tankertubbs. Azismiss. Dutchess. Feedee Spain. Macpurc. Mika Saunders. 

Jesus there were a lot of youtubers out there. Then the websites! Oh man. Grommr, Fantasy Feeder, FFAmbrosia, Beefyfrat, BiggerCity? He made profiles on every one of them, just to read and learn more. Stiles’ curiosity was ravenous, and there was no satiation in sight.

And then…his favorite…were the artists. Katou Hayabusa, the Deviantart blogs, the Tumblr blogs, the Instagram photos, Mamabliss was a heaven on earth of comics, Pirita Argenta made animations that were to die for…and then Nadia. Dear, sweet Nadia by 3rd Art. And Lalia and Kipteitei! Hundreds of thousands of people, if not millions, on each and every one of those sites and making art and posting photos…and how on earth could Stiles have not found this sooner? It was ludicrous how large this community was!

And apparently, the physically biggest kink was the most in the closet, too. But, man, the keywords, the phrases, the titles, just…words. There were particular words that sent his mind reeling, and he found out real quick there were multiple facets and variations of what those words could be the subject of. 

Tight clothes, hairy ass, weight gain, flabby belly, jiggly belly, stuffed gut, funnel feeding, inflations and enemas, fattie wank, bearcub fuck, button popping, size difference, big fat gut..the list goes on and on. 

Fuck, if those words weren’t the hottest things to reach his ears and devour his senses. Especially, oh, especially big, fat, and gut put together. Plus adding an action to that verbage? Ugh. It was no fair. Jiggling, slapping, pounding into…god, it was just no fair. 

Wordplay into the introduction of this kink would quite possibly be the death of him, Stiles decided. His autopsy report would say ‘died of dried up testicles’ or ‘died of an overabundance of fat porn’. 

Those things were all well and great to find out, and by the time Stiles was done searching, and watching, and reading, it was well past 4 am. And where was Derek?

Stiles checked his phone, only to see one text from none other than Sourwolf himself, from around midnight. 

‘Stiles, I won’t make it back to your house in time. I checked over a few times, your dad has been awake for a while and I don’t think he’s going to bed anytime soon….so…we’ll have to save this for another night. –D’

‘FIRST OFF.  
ok fine thats legit.  
SECOND OFF. there'll be a next time?!’

Stiles sent the text without wondering if it was too early, or too late, to reply. Uncaring of it, he threw his phone to his bed and thought hard about how next time was going to play out, now that he had all these resources to compound upon.  
He had concluded a few things from his research:

1\. Tight clothes would always and forever be his worst enemy and best friend.  
2\. Lots of food and drink was always good, and too much food and drink was even better.  
3\. Massaging, jiggling, and lifting were, from the right vantage point, essential.  
4\. And any kind of struggle, done so teasingly or confidently, would bear fruit (boners) every time.

So, Stiles made a plan. Because he was the researchy, make a plan kind of guy. Next time Derek was here? Oh, there’d be a sweet toll to pay for making Stiles wait like this. 

______________

Stiles spent the next few days practicing. Although, he realized, he had had plenty of practice this past month and a half…the belly rolling over his waistband could attest to that. But this time, he did it with purpose and to achieve an end result he could be proud of. 

The great thing was, is that no one bothered him, and he was so focused on his task that he didn’t even notice. 

Stiles was finally working towards a goal. 

However shallow and pointless that goal was didn’t matter, because he was still happy, and still doing something other than drowning in his sorrows.

So when Derek saw him the next day, while the Sheriff was at work, to say Derek was taken by surprise was an understatement.

Derek sidled through the window, butt towards the room. When we turned around, he saw the bags of food he had brought a few days ago lying on the floor by Stiles’ desk chair, empty and scattered about. The top of Stiles’ head had slid down below the top of the chair and his long legs stretched out beyond the chair. 

From Derek’s position, he could just tell that Stiles was slouched in his chair, watching something on his laptop, a giant 2L water bottle ¾ full next to it. He saw Stiles’ elbows resting on the armrests, and…were his forearms moving slightly? He couldn’t tell if Stiles was awake or what he was wearing other than the pants on his legs. 

“Stiles? Are you awa-“ Derek started to whisper loudly. 

A low, soft moan attached itself to his ear drum. It echoed in his skull, longer and louder than it was in reality. 

The one damn time he actually wasn’t paying attention to his senses….the smell of arousal hit him full force as the chair turned and Stiles became the only important thing right then. Derek’s breathing picked up slightly at the sight before him.

“…Derek?” Stiles woofed quietly as he turned around. Derek saw many things at once. The least important was the computer screen, which revealed the ending sequences of a video, the last image Derek saw a man patting a huge belly that hung obscenely out of a blue button up. The most important thing, well… 

The angle in which Stiles was lounging in made his swollen gut that much more pronounced. It pooched over the waist of his pants and rose up high into the air. A hand rested on top of a very, very engorged belly and another hand started fiddling underneath the droop of his gut with his pants button. It bulged obscenely out of the new buttonup t-shirt, belly button barely covered and shirt pulled taut tucked into his pants. The pink stretchmarks scraping up and down his belly seemed elongated and wider than they used to be, and snuck down beneath the tight waist of his pants. His legs were spread wide to ease the stress of his pants, accommodating his swollen gut. 

His hands gave up in their attempt to unbutton the jeans and he sighed into the chair even more, resigned to his tight-waisted fate. 

Derek’s mouth parted slightly, and he took an involuntary step backward. Derek knew that he had just, only a few days ago, been all over the boy, but that was because Stiles needed to know he was desirable and cared for. Stiles’ distress had given Derek the courage to act on his feelings. Now though…Derek could only think ‘what have I gotten myself into…’ 

He coudln't really seem to tear his eyes away from the sight, taking it all in, and suddenly couldn’t breathe.

So nervous, but so overwhelmingly aroused, all Derek could do was stare. He was afraid to move, afraid to make a sound, fearing it would all be a dream. A very, very, wonderful dream. He pinched himself, hard, and ouch, it wasn’t a dream. 

At this realization, a dark, hooded look crowded his face and his breathing only made him seem angry. It was so hard to keep control and the pure excitement was almost too much. Derek could feel his claws and fangs grow and retract into him again with each  
breath he took to try to steady himself. God, he wanted. 

Stiles looked up at him, heavy-lidded and drunk on food and the worst case of boner. “Derek…help me out here…” Stiles gestured towards his pants vaguely, and Derek’s eyes fell on the obnoxious bulge wanting out of its constraints.

This was very much not something Derek was used to. He was okay with last time, he was ok with the touching, and the kissing, and ok with showing his appreciation for Stiles and the way he looked. 

This time though? It was extreme. These were extreme measures and he was extreme mush in Stiles' hands right now. 

“Nuh,” Derek croaked out. It was supposed to be a no…but it kind of mixed with a hnnggg groan thing sound and a no. 

Derek had barely even gotten used to the idea of being attracted to fat dudes, and this was jumping in waaayyy to quickly for him to know how to handle it. 

Stiles looked at him for a moment and grabbed the bottle of water next to him. He licked his lips, making sure he had Derek’s full attention, and raised the bottle to try and gulp down whatever he could.

Unfortunately, Stiles couldn’t push himself past two swallows. He rested the bottle on the arm chair, gasping for breath, “I-oof” He tried to steady his shallow breaths, an arm swaddling his gut, “I can’t do it, Derek.”

“...I think you can,” Derek said, so quietly Stiles almost didn't hear it. 

"Help me, then," and Stiles reach to give the bottle to Derek. "Help me finish what I started."

A force beyond his control pushed Derek towards Stiles, reaching for the bottle to it back up to Stiles’ lips. 

"Ugh, please, make it feel better..." Stiles said after another gulp. 

Without thinking, Derek's hand latched onto Stiles’ gut, leeching away pain and pressing into his belly to massage room into it. He could feel its contents slosh and move around his hand, but there was still room for more. Stiles moaned around the bottle and nestled into the chair, enjoying Derek’s hand pushing into his straining stomach and numbing the pain. Stiles opened up his throat as much as he could, and let the liquid pour down. 

Derek stared. He couldn’t help it. Not even a little. He watched the water dribble off of Stiles’ chin where it leaked out, he watched the jump of his gut with each swallow, he watched the gaps of the buttons open and close with each breath, particularily the one right above Stiles’ belly button.

And suddenly Derek needed to see that button soar. It was a feeling that gnawed at him deep inside. He tipped the bottle up even more, goading Stiles to drink with small murmurs of encouragement. 

Stiles breathed deep and even through his nose, until Derek pulled the bottle back from his mouth slowly. They both seemed like they couldn’t get air into their lungs fast enough. Derek’s eyes bounced around from his face to his body and everywhere in between. Stiles looked down at his stomach sitting heavily on his body, so full and round and bloated. He felt like he was about to explode, but at least there wasn’t any pain, not with Derek’s hands massaging and taking it all away. 

They looked at the water bottle while Stiles tried to settle his breathing, nearing the ¼ mark. ‘Just a little bit to go,’ Stiles thought to himself. He wanted to do this. He wanted to fill up, he wanted to finish the bottle, he wanted to pop the buttons off his shirt…to see the look on Derek’s face when he did. 

He could do this. With Derek’s help. Maybe. Hopefully? 

Derek, however, wasn’t convinced it would do the trick. All he could think was ‘more’, Stiles needed more in him. More water, more fat, to fill him up all the way. Stiles thought that Derek only wanted him to finish the bottle of water…silly. Derek removed his hand from Stiles’ belly and took the bottle to the bathroom.

Stiles gasped loudly as a sudden agony hit him. His stomach felt too full, so tight, like it was all pushing at his skin to make more room for everything that was stuffed inside. His hands groped at his belly, poking and prodding, feeling how truly hard and yet still squishy it was. He tried to alleviate his own pain by massaging it, to no avail. Stiles writhed in his seat, extremely uncomfortable in his tight clothes. His shirt was practically painted to his chest, buttons straining, so trying to get it off was useless. He wouldn’t even consider digging underneath his belly to reach his jeans. 

Stiles whimpered in his helplessness.

Derek came back seconds later. He had taken pity on the boy, only slightly, and had refilled the bottle only another 1/4 way instead of all the way like he had planned. Derek put his hand back on Stiles’ stomach, easing the pressure and letting Stiles relax only slightly before he pushed the bottle back up to his mouth. Stiles resisted for a moment, unprepared and not exactly willing at that point…but soon accepted his fate. 

Derek watched the liquid make its way out of the bottle, and into the lovely tummy straining so delicately against the shirt. Stiles visibly struggled with the last few gulps of water, really taking his time preparing for the last drops. He took it slow, and breathed a lot between each small swallow. 

Derek tipped back the bottle all the way, letting the rest of it drain away, and set it on the desk. “Sit up Stiles, can you?”

Stiles struggled to sit up, his heavy, fat gut pulling him down, an extra weight that gravity pounced on. 

Derek took a small step backward and watched with wide eyes. There was something extremely hot about the way Stiles labored to move around, the way he didn’t have enough strength to pull his own body up, the pain of over-fullness, how is belly slightly swayed when he readjusted his sitting position. The strain was evident on his body, and the amount of effort it took for him to move took Derek’s breath away.

Stiles was upright in the chair, and as he heaved a big sigh of relief, hand resting on top of his swollen gut, he felt a sudden pressure release around it, and a PING hit his window. 

For Derek, it seemed to happen in slow motion. He saw Stiles settle into the chair, hand resting on his belly. He saw the shirt button below his belly button strain obscenely, and then suddenly, it was gone. The space between the other buttons widened, and Stiles’ belly surged forward, mushrooming through the opening, and there went the button right above his pants. 

Stiles sighed happily and rubbed the spot where the button had pressed in so hard. He pulled the rest of his shirt out, groaning with each movement that jostled his stomach, letting his belly flop ontop of his pants. Stiles cupped the underside of it, rubbing where the pants button had been pushing in. His head lolled forward as he looked down, moaning in relief, all throat and all pleasure. 

Derek whimpered in place, a sound too throaty to be okay. He realized he had allowed his wolf to come out, and reared it back, not wanting to scare Stiles. He turned towards the window, and felt his face mold back to his human shape, but before his fangs poked back inside, Stiles looked up at him and smirked.

“Where ya goin, wolfman?” he slurred out quietly, “This-,“ he hefted his fat belly slighty, and dropped it, letting it slosh around in his lap, wincing through the pain and pleasure, “is your doing, so fix it.” Derek growled low and shivered. That was all because of him?

His fangs grew longer this time, and Derek didn’t try to stop that small part of transformation. He wouldn’t allow more of the wolf to show. “Bed. Now.” Derek ordered. Stiles may get away with ordering him around once in a while, but Derek would make him earn it...

Stiles tried to push himself up once and failed. He huffed in annoyance at Derek, who stood by with his arms crossed, enjoying the view. Stiles pushed himself up again. He had to arch his back a great deal to receive help from gravity. God he felt so heavy, so full. Stiles dragged himself to the bed before easing himself down onto it, all limbs, crawling on his hands and knees to his pillows. 

“Oohh,” he groaned as he feathered over his taut, overly sensitive skin. He couldn’t quite lay down yet, wanting to avoid his belly moving around too much. But the feeling of it, swaying beneath him, and if he looked down he could see how positively round he was, that was what kept him on his hands and knees the most. He was lost in his own body for a moment.

Derek watched as the overhang of his stomach drastically swung over his pants with each movement. There was enough liquid in it to make it slosh and ripple with certain movements, but in others, it bounced heavily like one bulky mass of fat. He watched Stiles lift a hand to grab at the underside of it. And fuck, if that didn’t destroy Derek, when Stiles started moving it, just little pats here and there, Derek almost lost it completely. Derek walked over to the bed, deciding to take the pain away and help Stiles lay down easier. He watched with too much interest as Stiles’ belly squished in on itself when Stiles turned on his knees to lay down, and with even more exaggerated interest when his belly rose into the air when Stiles finally made it onto his back. Derek crawled over his bulging belly and nestled his hips on top of Stiles’. His arms supported his torso as he hovered above Stiles, and slowly lowered himself down. 

“God…” Derek shivered violently at the feeling of something so full and hard yet soft pushing into him, the contrast was fantastically drastic and unfamiliar.

Stiles whimpered slightly beneath him, “C-careful, please…” Stiles was so focused on lessening the pain in his belly that he hardly even registered the man on top of him.

Derek looked at the boy, who had his eyes screwed shut tight. So, Derek lifted up their shirts, to allow the pain to be lifted. Skin on skin was always best, especially if it was a larger expanse of skin on skin. His movements, however, forced his erection to rub against Stiles’ belly multiple times, and he groaned into Stiles’ neck, trying not to rut against the ball of fat so close to his dick. The thinly-threaded jeans Derek was wearing happened to be the only thing separating more skin on skin, and he could hardly wait to get them off. 

Stiles’ hands found Derek's back, and he ran his fingernails up and down Derek’s back, switching from light to almost breaking skin. It made him shiver with delight.

The pain Stiles felt was receding quickly, leaving nothing but unabashed pleasure rolling through him. He moaned slightly as his body started rocking into Derek’s solid, hard body. He felt the man above him shiver, unknowing that the bottom of his belly continuously hit the head of Derek’s cock, teasing him endlessly. 

“Ooh, Stiles wait,” Derek forced the boy to pause, their breathing ragged and dry. He pulled his body off of the boy and kneeled on the bed, still straddling Stiles. Derek’s hands fumbled with the clasp of his belt, and once it was undone Derek undid his button, and the pants slid down to his knees. 

“So you go commando all the time, or just every so often?” Stiles poked fun at him breathily. 

“Shut up,” Derek smiled back slightly. 

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” Stiles whispered, staring intently at the large member saluting him.

Derek shook his pants off him, uncaring of grace.

Deeds like this were dirty, and grace was a timely and expensive thing; no need to waste it. He sidled down Stiles’ legs, undoing the tight button and pulling at the pants hugging his thighs until they were down to his ankles next to Derek.

Stiles’ dick poked out of the opening in his boxers, and Derek fell on it quickly. Stiles felt a warm mouth and a soft tongue envelope his engorged member, and hands reach up to clasp his love handles, making his belly sway back and forth around his body. 

“Oh God!” Stiles gasped. His hands found their way into Derek’s hair, pulling and gripping with each swirl Derek’s tongue made, each suck he pulled up on. 

Stiles felt the hands leave his sides, and one rested on the bottom of his belly and squeezed, while the other one caressed the inside of Stiles’ thighs, eventually cupping his balls and playing with them. 

A strained groan escaped his throat and he felt more than heard Derek chuckle around his cock. 

Derek continued to fondle his balls, continued pinching and jiggling his fat, continued licking and sucking and pumping on his dick with increasing urgency. 

Derek wanted to get him to the brink, and then pull away. He wanted to come all over Stiles’ fat gut, to see his seed on the belly wobbling back and forth from food and sex beneath him. Derek could hear Stiles’ labored breathing coming in quicker and higher with each passing pump. 

“Derek, Oh God, Derek, I’m-“ 

Derek pulled away at the last minute, and quickly straddled Stiles’ hips. His own dick was covered in pre-cum, and he smeared it down his shaft with his thumb. 

“Guide me so I don't hurt you.” Derek ordered breathlessly. 

Stiles did as he was told, groaning in frustration at being denied his release. He gripped Derek’s hips hard, and pulled him higher up Stiles’ body just slightly. Derek reached behind him and started fondling Stiles’ balls again. Upon hearing the boy beneath him moan and pause in his propulsion of Derek’s thrusts, Derek leaned over slightly and pushed Stiles’ belly towards his dick, creating a bigger, softer mound of flab to fuck. It was still hard, but less than before and it still sloshed with each movement. 

“Oh God Stiles, you’re so…,” so fat, so very fat, and heavy and full and delicious. Derek buried his face against Stiles’ paunch for a moment, willing the words not to come out, smelling nothing but Stiles, before Stiles grunted and started pulling at what he could reach to move Derek's hips again. Derek complied with a small pout, pulling his face up and looking at Stiles with hungry eyes. He felt his dick sliding up Stiles’ and into his fat, and back down. What sweet friction. He groaned quick and loud with each thrust, Stiles pulling him faster and further into his fat belly. Derek watched it jiggle beautifully until he was moving so fast there was a constant bounce to Stiles’ belly. God it looked so hot seeing all that fat slosh around, bouncing up and down.

"Fuck!" Stiles watched his own gut bounce up and down, jiggling so much but it didn't hurt this time. No, all he could feel was his flesh rippling and moving a milisecond later than everything else. He looked so, so fat. Derek, pumping into him, looked magnificent and absolutely wrecked, thinking the same things. 

Their erections rubbed against each other more and more, every time hitting the ring of nerves that sent a jolt of electricity between the two. The friction was so good. 

Too good. 

Derek felt himself close to the edge, and for one last pump into his flab, he finished all over Stiles’ waist. 

Stiles wasn’t far behind, writhing at the feeling of Derek’s release spasming through both of them. He quickly grabbed for Derek’s arm, for something to hold, but missed and felt his own soft flesh seep between his fingers and slosh against his hand. He felt how heavily his belly wobbled, and there was so much fat there. He gasped and exploded violently between their bodies, spraying his cum all over the underside of his belly. 

Derek watched curiously as he helped Stiles ride out the last waves of his orgasm, still sensitive from his own but helped nonetheless. He peeled himself from the boy under him and landed softly on his side. 

They lay in silence, basking in the post-orgasm glow for a moment, and only a moment because Derek knew Stiles couldn’t stay quiet for that long. 

“So...”

Called it.

“Derek the chubby chaser, eh? 

"Looks like I'm not the only one.”

A beat of silence passed where they could hear nothing but their breathing and the gears clicking into place in Stiles’ head.

“There should be more talking next time."

"Mhm." 

"Correct me, Dear Watson, if I am wrong, and I am never wrong, but…you like me, too.”

Derek sighed, “No, I want you purely for your body Stiles.” Stiles barked out a laugh, so Derek turned his head to look at Stiles, a somber expression on his face. 

Stiles’ smile faded quickly and he opened his mouth to say something when Derek cut him off, “You’re a fool.” Derek reached an arm out to him and pulled him into a tight embrace, albeit awkward, but still full of meaning. Stiles tucked his head into the crook of Derek’s neck and took a deep breath. 

“Yes, dork, I like you. I meant every word of what I said earlier.” He kissed the top of Stiles’ head.

“Yea, can you repeat that again? Or, like, everyday, whisper it, write it, scream it?”

Derek just chuckled and shook his head. 

They fell asleep, cuddled together, until the numinous hours of dawn fell on them.


End file.
